


Enchanted

by TheJackieMo



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M, Hogwarts Seventh Year, POV Draco Malfoy, POV Hermione Granger, Veela, Veela Hermione, Veela Mates
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-09-08
Updated: 2017-11-03
Packaged: 2018-08-13 22:55:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 31,207
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7989187
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheJackieMo/pseuds/TheJackieMo
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>As Hermione Granger's 18th birthday approaches, strange things have been happening that even her magic can't seem to fix. How will she handle the news that she is no ordinary witch and that a certain Slytherin will play a key role in her future? Veela!Hermione</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Enchanted

Chapter 1

Hermione rummaged through her large tote bag in search of her elusive sunglasses. The sun had been beating down on her all day as she spent some quality time at the beach with her parents during one of the last days of the summer. Soon she would be boarding the Hogwarts Express for her final year at the magic school.

“Do you need help dear?”

“No thanks, mum. They’re stuck at the bottom. I’ll find them.” Her mother turned back to the book she had open on her lap. When the 17-year old was finally successful, she frowned at the horribly scratched state she recovered them in.

“I think I’ll need a new pair though.”

“I keep telling you to store them in a case.” Hermione didn’t respond, deciding to just magically repair them when they got home. As she lay back to take in some Vitamin D, a breeze blew by, pushing her unruly hair into her face.

“Mum?” She called out when she noticed something peculiar about a particular lock. “Does my hair look strange to you?” Hermione removed her glasses to get a better look. Mrs. Granger shifted closer to her daughter to see what the fuss was about.

“Oh, it looks like you’ve got some premature grey!” Her mother jokingly told her. Hermione frowned at the silvery hair before her. Was it normal for a 17-year old to have such a large portion of hair change? Quickly, she grabbed several other chunks of hair to check if it had spread, but found no other oddities. Perhaps she would just have to start coloring her hair at a younger age than other women. The thought frustrated her slightly, but not much was to be done about it. Looking at the lock again, she decided the color didn’t look so bad anyway. After all, the hair was more silver than grey and it almost sparkled in the bright sunlight. She might just leave it the way it was.

As the Gryffindor turned back to the book she had been reading before her sunglasses hunt, she spotted her mother from the corner of her eye.

“What?”

“Nothing.” Her mother told her, seemingly finding renewed interest in her own book.

The rest of the day went on without any other strangeness happening, unless one counts Mr. Granger finding a shark tooth by the shoreline. Of course he and Mrs. Granger become quite animated upon the discovery, eager to bring it to their office and show their clients.

The following morning, Hermione woke and began her day much like any other. As she wandered into the bathroom to freshen up, she froze in front of her large mirror. Surely she was dreaming. She rubbed her eyes, hoping she was still just half-asleep and simply seeing things. But no, it would appear that nearly half her hair had turned from brown to the same silvery shade she had noticed the previous day. What on Earth?

She had never found a need to research the topic, but Hermione decided she would spend her entire day at the library to figure out if such drastic biological changes were at all normal. Perhaps her parents would know something about it and be able to ease her mind before she made the trip.

“Mum?” She asked once she reached the kitchen later that morning.

“Yes dear?” Mrs. Granger was standing at the stove, preparing a pot for tea.

“I don’t suppose you would know anything about this would you?” Hermione mentioned to her hair as her mother turned around to face her.

“Oh, what on Earth’s happened to you head sweetie? Did you magic it a different color?” The thought hadn’t occurred to her, but perhaps she accidentally did this to herself. Her wand had been in her bag all day yesterday; maybe she mishandled it. If that was the case, she realized she should be grateful it just changed her hair color and didn’t cause her to break out in boils.

“Right, that must be it! Of course!” Hermione laughed and joined her mother at the stove, relieved that she had figured out the cause to her hair problem. It didn’t seem to be endangering her at the moment, so she decided she would have some breakfast before fetching her wand to correct the issue.

She had a rather difficult time when the time came however. A simple ‘finite’ was ineffective, so the bookworm had to get creative with alternative spells she could think of. She finally did get the changed strands back to a muddy brown color. It didn’t look quite right, but she wasn’t about to complain anymore. It had taken her several hours and she was getting tired. 

“DEAR MERLIN!” Mr. and Mrs. Granger heard from the kitchen the next morning. Hermione had woken up to find that the hair coloring spell she used to correct the silver change had worn off and her entire head had adopted the new color. This could NOT be normal. It certainly didn’t seem like her wand either. Hermione hoped it wasn’t a bout of accidental magic. If that was the case she hadn’t a clue how to reverse it, but unfortunately, it seemed the most likely scenario. She would simply have to wait until she got back to school to receive assistance from a better trained witch. Professor McGonagall would surely know what to do.

When she reached the kitchen, her parents appeared to have little to say on the subject. Hermione realized that they had grown accustomed to strange things happening in their home and often attributed them to magic. It would seem this was no different. They quietly accepted that her hair would remain its new color until their daughter could attain additional help. Fortunately, Hermione would be boarding the train to school in less than a week.

 

By the time Hermione found herself seated in the compartment with her two best friends, she had found that her hair had also become much more manageable, settling into soft curls, rather than the unruly mess it had previously been. Not only that, but her skin seemed to have gotten lighter, despite all the time she had spent in the sun over the summer.

“Erm, Mione?” Ron blushed and began awkwardly once he and Harry found her compartment and joined her.

“Yes, I know,” The previously brunette girl responded, addressing the elephant in the room. “I couldn’t figure out how to fix it. I’m hoping McGonagall can help later.” The redhead visibly relaxed at her confession.

“Get in a fight with your wand?” Harry chimed in, both boys chuckled.

“I don’t think so,” she smirked at them. “It was likely some bit of accidental magic. I noticed at the beach about a week ago. It’s only gotten worse.” Perhaps ‘worse’ was the wrong word. Hermione found that she actually quite liked her new look. If the former Gryffindor Head of House couldn’t fix it, she would probably keep it the way it was.

About half way through the trip, Ron drew the compartment curtain so he could take a nap against the window without looking like a buffoon to passing students. Hermione had to agree that he looked ridiculous with his cheek pressed against the cloth covered window and drool beginning to drip out of the corner of his mouth. 

As she sat across from Harry and stared at Ron, trying not to laugh, Hermione caught a whiff of something delectable.

“Harry, are you wearing a new cologne?” She asked as she breathed in deeply. 

“Uh, I don’t wear cologne Mione.” Hermione ignored him, eager to take in more of the scent that was quickly dissipating. She closed her eyes and settled back against the compartment seat. A pleasant shiver ran through her and a small smile formed on her lips. When she opened her eyes, Harry was staring at her, open mouthed.

“What’s wrong, Harry?”

“N-nothing!” His face flushed furiously. “I-uh-you.” He cleared his throat. “Would you like me to wear cologne?” Hermione quirked an eyebrow at her best friend.

“Well, if it smells as wonderful as whatever that just was, then I think every man should wear it.” Hermione closed her eyes again, feeling more relaxed than she was just a few minutes ago. 

She must have fallen asleep soon after, because before she knew it, the Hogwarts Express was coming to a stop and Harry was lightly nudging her awake. She gathered her things and joined the rest of the Golden Trio to the castle. 

Hermione gained quite a few stares on their way. Most of the girls she passed gave her mixed looks, either of disgust, or something else Hermione couldn’t identify. The boys just sort of stared at her. Then again, she could’ve just been overanalyzing. She was walking next to Harry Potter anyway. They were probably all looking at him. She certainly wasn’t anything special, except for Head Girl of course. Remembering her new title, she fished her Head Girl badge out of her robe pocket and proudly pinned it so it would be visible.

When she entered the Great Hall, the same scent that took over Hermione’s senses on the train was present again.

“Do you two smell that?” She closed her eyes again, lightly holding Harry’s arm to guide her to the Gryffindor table.

“Uh, no? Is it bad?” Ron asked from the other side of the Boy Who Lived. 

“Really? No, it’s not bad at all. It’s quite wonderful.” She opened her eyes again when they reached the table and looked around for a source for the delicious aroma. Finding none, she turned back to her friends as the First years began to file into the Hall.

The scent remained as the eleven year old were sorted and throughout the entire meal. In fact, Hermione sensed it until the time came for all the students to retire to their dorms. At that point, the Head Girl had grown almost dizzy with the smell of freshly cut grass, new parchment, and mint that she had to lean on Harry just to stand from the table.

Once she left the hall and met with the Head Boy, Anthony Goldstein, the scent cleared and she could begin to think clearly once more. After bidding goodnight to her two best friends, the rest of the day went by uneventfully. She got acquainted with her new Head Girl dorm and had a pleasant chat with the Head Boy.

The next morning, however, as Hermione sat in the Great Hall for breakfast alongside Harry and Ron, that irresistible scent hit her once more. It was a good thing she had already been sitting down, or else her knees might have just given out from beneath her. Once again, she searched the room for the source of the scent, but found nothing. The hall was nearly full, as everyone wanted to have a large breakfast for the first day of classes.

“At least we don’t have many classes with the Slytherins this year,” Ron mentioned through a mouthful of porridge. Hermione nodded her head as she attempted to stomach a forkful of eggs. Eating was proving to be a challenge with the butterflies in her stomach and the pleasurable shivers travelling down her spine. Somehow, though, she made it through breakfast and to Arithmancy, which they had with the Hufflepuffs. Hermione was pleased that her sensations had ceased shortly after leaving the Great Hall. Perhaps there was something in there causing this strange reaction in her.

The next two weeks progressed in much the same way. Hermione even got to the point where she avoided the Great Hall at all costs, opting to sneak into the kitchens for her meals. She would have loved to continue eating with her friends, but if that blasted scent continued to pervade her senses, she’d starve.  
On September 19th, Hermione woke to her parents’ owl tapping at her window. Smiling at the birthday card, she let the bird inside and offered it a treat. 

 

Dearest,  
There is something the Headmistress and we need to discuss with you today. It’s very important. We’ve made an appointment for 8:30am. Please don’t be late.  
Happy Birthday.  
Much Love,  
Mum and Dad

 

Hermione frowned at the letter. She had never considered herself a spoiled child, but she had expected a little more from a birthday card than cryptic information about a meeting with McGonagall. Brushing aside her disappointment, the Head Girl changed from her pajamas, before completing her usual morning tasks and heading down to the kitchens for some breakfast. Fortunately she didn’t encounter anyone on way. Her fellow students had gotten quite strange since the start of term and Hermione wasn’t sure what about her warranted stares. Maybe it was the hair. She had been putting off asking for McGonagall’s help but since she would be in her office shortly, she might as well ask then.

The House elves were more than happy to fill her plate with a little bit of everything they prepared for the rest of the school. She smiled, thanked them and ate in relative peace at one of the small tables along the perimeter of the expansive room. 

Before long though, it was time to head to the Headmistresses office. Hermione wondered how her parents had managed to get to Hogwarts, but supposed if they had owled for an appointment, someone may have gone to fetch them. As expected, she saw her parents sitting across from Headmistress McGonagall’s desk when she arrived.

“Hi mum, dad. What’s this all about?” She greeted as she hugged them warmly.

“We actually have something we need to discuss with you,” Mrs. Granger told her.

“Uh, alright. I’m listening.” For all the supposed preparation they made, Mr. and Mrs. Granger seemed at a loss where to begin with whatever it was they needed to tell their daughter.

“First of all, we need you to know that we love you. We’ll love you forever. You’re our baby girl.” Hermione stiffened at her words.

“Guys, what is it? You’re scaring me.”

“Sweetie, you’re…adopted,” Mr. Granger sighed. Whatever Hermione had expected to hear, it certainly wasn’t that.

“Excuse me?”

“You see, in some magical circles, when the biological parents are deemed unfit to raise offspring, the child is granted to an adoptive couple,” Professor McGonagall explained slowly. Hermione’s eyes darted back and forth from her favorite professor to the people she had always known to be her parents.

“Yes, and in your case, we stepped forward and took you in.”

“You stepped forward?” Hermione’s face was growing hot in anger. “As if no one else wanted me? What is this? What’s going on? Did you know I was a witch?”

“Well, that’s the reason we’ve brought you here today, dear. It’s your birthday.”

“Yes, mum. I’m very aware it’s my birthday today. This is not the way I imagined celebrating it.”

“Miss Granger, please remain clam. Your parents have come to share a very important aspect of your adoption.”

“What? What is it? Spit it out already!” Hermione knew, even as she fumed, that she was probably acting out more than she should be. She didn’t know what was coming over her, despite being at total liberty to be angry with her parents.

“You were granted to us by The Ministry of Magic shortly after your Veela mother surrendered you.” Hermione’s rage subsided momentarily at her father’s words.

“My…what?”

“You’re a Veela, dearest,” her mother placed a comforting hand on the young woman’s shoulder. “Bother your biological parents were Veela. We’re only telling you this now, because it’s your 18th birthday today and you’ve come into your inheritance.”

Mrs. Granger had more to say, but Hermione heard none of it. Instead, she rushed out the door, sure she was about to be sick. Her brain didn’t process the halls she ran through in her race to escape to her dorm room.

And then it hit her.

That heavenly scent overtook her senses and she suddenly couldn’t think straight. Before she knew it, she came to an abrupt stop in the Entrance Hall, where dozens of students were milling about, preparing for another day of classes. She barely noticed that all the boys present stopped to gawk at her, as she circled the room in search of the source of the aroma. 

Her fingers tingled as she ran her hand through her hair, attempting to calm herself to no avail. Her skin felt electric and if she didn’t know better, she would say it was glowing.

She paced as more students passed into the Entrance Hall. Her heart was racing as the scent grew stronger the closer she got to the Great Hall. She had almost found the source as a coil began to wind in her gut from the delectable shivers passing down her spine. She was so close.

There.

In the entranceway to the Great Hall, the source of the scent was stood. Hermione felt her instincts take over her and practically flew over to him. 

She saw stars when their mouths met and she inhaled his intoxicating aroma, eliciting a euphoric moan. She ran her hands through his hair and she felt his hands run over her back. At some point she vaguely realized she had been pushed up against the stone wall of the corridor as he ravished her neck and grabbed her bum.

In what seemed like an eternity and yet no time at all, the pair were pulled apart by a couple of nearby Hogwarts professors and Hermione finally was able to figure out who the source of that delicious scent was.

Draco Malfoy.


	2. chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hi All, so here's it's starting to get a little more explicit. This will only get worse (or better, depending how you look at it). Just forewarning you all.   
> Also, I'm so glad to have gotten so much positive feedback! Thank you guys so much! I love you all! Enjoy and comment some more please!

Hermione struggled in the grasp of the professor who held her, desperate to reach that intoxicating scent again. If her arms weren’t pinned to her sides, she would have reached out for him, completely ignoring the fact that the source was her long time school nemesis. The Veela could see the blonde reacting in much the same way. Draco’s pupils were dilated with desire to the point that they were almost completely overtaking his stormy blue irises.

“Let go!” Hermione heard someone call out, only to realize that it was her own voice that pleaded to be released.

“Miss Granger!” She snapped her gaze to the direction of Professor McGonagall, who was standing with her parents at her sides.

“Release me!” Hermione screamed at the witch, beginning to feel a strange burning itch in between her shoulder blades.

“Please remain calm,” Minerva told her as she slowly made her way over to the teen. “Aurora, please remove Mr. Malfoy. He seems to only be making our situation worse.” 

The confused astronomy professor did as she was told and half dragged the struggling boy from the corridor. Once he was out of sight, Hermione slowly came back to her senses. Her head gradually cleared and she stopped struggling against the professor holding her, who she came to learn was Madam Hooch. The two professors, as well as her parents all stood and waited for the young woman to explain herself, although the Headmistress had a very good idea what had happened.

“I…I don’t know what came over me.”

“Well, that certainly happened sooner than I would’ve hoped, but if you would please rejoin us in my office, I can help explain what has been happening to you.” Minerva motioned for Hermione to follow her back upstairs. “Thank you, Rolanda. Would you please make sure Mr. Malfoy has settled down before you go back to you class?” The Quidditch instructor nodded and began making her way in the direction of where the Slytherin had been taken.

“What the hell was that?” Hermione asked once she had settled back in the armchair across from her favorite professor.

“What you must understand, Miss Granger, is that there are several aspects about coming into a Veela inheritance that will come as quite a shock.”

“Yeah, no shit!” Ignoring her student’s incredibly rude and uncharacteristic outburst, the Headmistress continued.

“As you have come to realize, your body has undergone some changes, due to the awakened Veela magic in your system, leading your hair and skin to become much lighter. Hermione, have you noticed any new attentions from your fellow students, particularly the male population?” 

The Gryffindor had to think about that question for a moment. Boys had been acting pretty weird lately. She hadn’t thought it was anything to do with some strange Veela inheritance though! Knowing a bit about the strange ways men react to a Veela’s presence, after attending the Quidditch World Cup several years before, gave Hermione a good idea what Professor McGonagall was about to tell her.

“Until you…” The older witch awkwardly cleared her throat, “formally claim a mate, any man, young or old, will seek to win your affections when in your presence.”

“Claim?” Hermione asked, confused by the Professor’s strange choice of words.

“Yes, er…by consummating your relationship.” 

“Oh.” Hermione glanced, red-faced, to both of her parents, who blushed furiously alongside her. Hermione had always had a very open communication relationship with them, but being so frank about sex was a bit more than she was comfortable with. 

“Wait, but what if I don’t meet someone for a long time? Are boys going to being fighting over me for years? The rest of my life? What if I never find someone I want to spend the rest of my life with?” Hermione was beginning to become a bit hysterical with the implication that she wouldn’t have any peace until she settled down with a man.

“Oh, dear, don’t worry about that,” at the young woman’s crazed expression, Mrs. Granger continued. “You’ve already met him. That blonde boy you were snogging downstairs.”

“What? Malfoy? No way.”

“Are you sure about that? You seemed to enjoy his company very much from what we saw.” Hermione blushed for the ump-teenth time.

“Yes, well… I don’t really know what happened there. I must’ve not known what I was doing. Temporary insanity.”

“It’s actually a part of your inheritance, dear. You’re instincts are calling out to him. You can find him by scent alone, sort of like radar.” Hermione made a disbelieving face at her mother, scrunching up her nose and scoffed at the thought.

“Well, even if what you’re saying is true, I hardly think Malfoy would choose to consummate anything with a mudblood.”

“But you’re not a muggleborn. You’re a Veela,” Minerva smiled at the girl. “In elite circles, it’s considered a great honor to become the mate of one of your kind. I should think Mr. Malfoy and his family would be very pleased with this development.” Hermione frowned and stood to leave.

“Will that be all?” The three adults in the room exchanged concerned glances. 

“For now at least. This has likely been more than enough information to think about,” responded the Headmistress. The Head Girl turned to her father then, who had been suspiciously silent during the entire meeting.

“Daddy, don’t you have something to say about all this nonsense?” Mrs. Granger motioned to her husband, who then turned to face his daughter, with a confused expression.

“He can’t hear you, dear. Earplugs. He's been trying to read lips all day.”

“Why on Earth does he need earplugs?”

“He is a man, dear.” Taking a moment for the implication to settle in, the young witch scowled.

“That’s disgusting. He’s my father!”

“Not biologically,” her mother told her matter-of-factly. Hermione exited the room in a huff once more, without saying a proper goodbye to any of them.

Some time later, Hermione was silently fuming in her dorm common room. Anthony was still in classes, which she had decided to skip for the day. She had perfect attendance otherwise and was eight chapters ahead in every class, so she decided an emotional crisis was ample reason to have some alone time.

A knock came at the portrait that covered the entrance to the common room.

“Who is it?” she called out to the intruder.

“Hermione? Are you alright? It’s Ron. I heard there was some strangeness downstairs you were involved in. Can I come in?” The Head Girl almost let him, but thought better of it. Remembering how some men at the World cup had attempted dangerous stunts in the presence of Veela, her hand hovered at the entranceway. She didn’t want Ron to get hurt because of her stupid inheritance.

“I-I don’t think that’s a good idea, Ron.”

“What? Why? Are you hurt?”

“No! Nothing like that. I just think you should leave. I’m not safe.”

“What the hell is that supposed to mean? Mione, is there someone in there with you? What’s with the secrets?”

“Ron, I’m fine. Really. I’ll try to talk to you later or something. I just…can’t right now.” Her redhaired ex-boyfriend paused for a moment.

“Fine…I’ll just go then. Feel better.”

“I’m sorry.” The Veela whispered a long while after the boy had left. How was she supposed to continue on with her life if nearly everyone she knew was going to try to hurt themselves trying to impress her? They wouldn’t even know what they were doing!

She remained in the common room for the rest of the day, calling a house elf to bring her dinner in her dorm room when the time came. She wanted to avoid everyone if possible, especially poor Anthony who had been cursed to share a common room with her.

Eventually darkness fell and Hermione had been assigned rounds that night. At least no one else would be around. She had never caught anyone out after curfew, so she was confident the night would go by without incident.   
She had made it through several floors, getting trapped on the stairs only once. She was glad, since they tended to be more active at night. Just two more floors and she could head back to her dorm. As she turned a corner, on her way towards the Ravenclaw corridor, she inhaled.

There it was. 

The same scent as her amortentia. Immediately, Hermione felt her pulse quicken and her legs began to move on their own. A little voice in the back of her head tried to reason with her that the source of the scent was Draco Malfoy, but it wasn’t loud enough for her to pay it any mind. He was near, she could feel him. After a few moments of walking, she saw a light towards the other end of the corridor; he had cast a lumos, surely sensing that she was close. Hermione’s pace picked up once she honed in on him. That little voice made an effort to slow her down, but was barely successful. Her feet brought her to him, where she wasted no time in claiming his lips in a wicked fury.

Hardly a second thought was given once Hermione allowed her new, seemingly unnatural feelings to overwhelm her. Once she found herself leaning against a nearby suit of armor, her arms encircling her chosen one, she allowed her right leg to wrap around her mate’s body, pulling him closer without breaking their connection. She could feel his already burgeoning arousal through his uniform and encouraged him with a slight grind of her hips. 

Draco moaned as he slid the two of them to the floor and relieved Hermione of her school shirt by tearing it open, buttons popping around the corridor. She hastily worked to remove his tie, an inconvenient obstacle to get his own shirt off. She didn’t get far though, as the blonde Slytherin trailed his kisses farther south towards her breasts. He made intentionally slow work of her bra, unfastening it with practiced ease before banishing it with a quick spell and taking in the sight of Hermione in all her topless glory. 

The cool night air caused her nipples to harden and goosebumps to rise on her skin. Hermione grasped at his hair, eager for her mate to continue his ministrations. Draco grinned and complied by taking a nipple into his mouth and nibbling lightly. The action sent a new wave of shivers down her spine, causing a wetness to overtake her knickers. She rubbed her thighs against his sides, desperate for friction. As her Slytherin trailed his kisses farther south, her body sang for him to reach its goal. Somewhere, Hermione could hear heavy breathing and moans, only to realize it was her own mouth the sounds were coming from.   
The Head Girl’s left leg had joined her right in wrapping itself around the wizard bringing her ecstasy. He somehow managed to maneuver his arm through the limbs encircling him, to bring his hand down to her very damp knickers. Hermione gasped at the sensation of him lightly rubbing her clitoris through them.

“Yes!” She barely registered saying anything at all, but then she felt her mate slowly pulling off the offending garment.

“My God you’re beautiful,” he said in little more than a whisper, after admiring the sight before him. 

Attempting to fight through the haze of her euphoria, Hermione gazed up at Draco and gave him a wistful grin. She watched him as he kissed her right thigh, then the other, slowly moving his mouth closer to the gathered wetness between her legs.

Then before she had realized what had happened, she found herself quickly being dragged on her back to the other side of the corridor, without her mate.

“Wha-?” She could still feel him and attempted to right herself to search once more. Her legs wobbled under her, still under the effects of pleasures Draco had been giving her. 

She couldn’t see him; his wand must’ve have gone out.

“Where are you?” She called out desperately. She needed him. Now.

“Miss Granger. I’ve been searching for you for ages,” Professor McGonagall stepped out of the shadows and into some torch light, magically holding Hermione’s mate back from rejoining her.

“What have you done! Let him go!” Hermione rushed over in their direction, only to bounce back once she was a few feet away. McGonagall gave her a distraught look.

“You’re not in your right mind at the moment. I assure you, once you and Mr. Malfoy have been separated, you will see reason. I believe we need to discuss some more details about your inheritance as well.” The Veela glared at her professor from her spot sprawled on the floor. 

“I want nothing to do with your discussions! Return my mate!” Hermione had never felt such rage! It was as if her veins were on fire with the amount of adrenaline rushing through them. That same itching she had felt earlier sprung up in between her shoulder blades again. 

Once again, she rushed towards them, careful to move slower this time and avoid being thrown back. Instead, she curled her fingers, as if she was prepared to grab the Headmistresses throat and choke the life from her. The itch in her back turned to a sharp tearing sensation. If she hadn’t been so blind with fury, it might have hurt. As it was, the seventh-year was snarling at the older witch and attempting to push through the invisible barrier that had been erected between them.

As all this was happening, Draco was struggling against the invisible binds that were keeping him from rejoining his Veela. The desperation was evident on his face and he appeared as ready to rip McGonagall to shreds as Hermione was.

“I’m very sorry to do this Miss Granger, but you will understand once you’ve returned to your proper state of mind. Stupefy!” 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Hermione woke to white sheets and the smell of medicinal potions. After a quick glance around, she found she was in the Hospital Wing. The bright light streaming through the large windows told her it was likely just after breakfast. Unsure why she was wasn’t in her own dorm, Hermione attempted to recount the events of the previous night and blushed furiously when she vaguely remembered her nighttime liaison with her school enemy. Of course, a quick check of her uniform confirmed that he had in fact torn them to pieces, exposing her entire upper body. Thank Merlin Professor McGonagall had been there to stop her! Although, she was a bit miffed that the Headmistress had seen fit to stupefy her. No doubt that was why she woke up in the Hospital Wing.

“Miss Granger, so glad to see you up and about,” Professor McGonagall strode in after Hermione had finished a light breakfast a house elf had brought her. “How are you feeling this morning?”

“Humiliated, honestly.” Hermione’s blush returned. Had McGonagall seen anything? Of course she had. Her entire shirt was in tatters and her bra was gone. The thought was mortifying.

“There is nothing to be embarrassed about. It’s perfectly normal for a Veela and her mate to attempt to consummate their partnership.” Hermione’s face was on fire with embarrassment. How could the older witch speak so nonchalantly about this? “It is your attempt with Mr. Malfoy that caused me to seek you out this morning. I fear we need to have a conversation about this in more depth.”

“What now?” If the former Gryffindor Head of House had any new surprises, Hermione might scream. This earth shattering life change just seemed to be getting worse every day.

“I fear we will need to make some adjustments to your education this year, in order to keep you and Mr. Malfoy separated. I’m sure you don’t want to make any more attempts with him while in public.” Hermione furiously shook her head, agreeing with the Professor. Glad that the Gryffindor was being cooperative, McGonagall continued.

"First of all, it is convenient that you already have no shared class periods. However, we will need to discuss Mr. Malfoy's own schedule to ensure that the two of you do not run into each other in the corridors by accident, or else we'll have a repeat of yesterday morning." Hermione sighed, embarrassed by the fuzzy memory.

"Secondly, now I don't think you will be pleased with this, I think it best for you to have chaperoned visits with the young man-"

"Excuse me? No! Keep him away from me!"

"You may say that now, Miss Granger, but I assure you, your Veela instincts will become more prevalent the longer you stay away from him."

"What do you mean?" There was something the Headmistress wasn't telling Hermione and the girl was determined to get the whole truth.

"Typically, when a Veela finds their mate, the need to consummate takes over. Now, it can be held off for some time, but in the end it will be too overwhelming to fight. I believe that if you had chaperoned visits, your instincts may be held at bay at least until the end of the school year." Hermione was aghast.

"And then what? We just fuck each other's brains out?" Professor McGonagall was a bit taken aback by the Head Girl's uncharacteristic outburst, but it seemed to be becoming more common as of late.

"That will be up to you and your mate Miss Granger, but I suspect that consummating your relationship will indeed be at the top of your To Do list." Hermione scoffed in frustration and began to pace.

"So what happens during these visits then? Every time I see him all I want to do is....Well I don't see how..." Hermione couldn't even finish her thought. It seemed no matter how she tried to say it, the horrible truth wouldn't come out.

"You will have two types of visits, Hermione." The Veela's head turned up at the use of her first name. "One type of visit will be chaperoned as you and Mr. Malfoy speak through a window. You will be able to hear each other, but his scent will be closed off from you, so your instincts will be dampened." Hermione nodded. She was unhappy that this was her reality now, but at least the visit would just consist of her having a conversation with the blonde bastard. She couldn't imagine what he would have to say to her though.

"And the second type of visit?" McGonagall shifted uncomfortably in the seat she had taken.

"The second will not consist of a window." Hermione's heart sank into her gut. "A chaperone will be present to ensure that no consummation takes place. The two of you will be allowed some physical interaction, but will be halted if things go too far." The Gryffindor felt like she was about to vomit; surely her face had turned green at the mention of McGonagall's plan.

"Why bother? Why not just let us get it over with and be done with it? If all it takes is for us to screw each other?"

"If that's what you and Mr. Malfoy choose to do, then by all means, but I had thought you would rather not complete your seventh year at Hogwarts while pregnant."

"WHAT?" Hermione was fuming. What a ridiculous notion! Of course she would take precautions, not that she was interested in doing anything remotely sexual with Malfoy anyway. But to think that her favorite professor thought she was unwise enough to forego protection! The nerve!

"This is no attack on your character Miss Granger."

"Then please explain, Minerva." 

"Once a Veela consummates with their mate, they continue to consummate until a child is conceived." Hermione quickly snatched a wastebasket from beside a nearby hospital bed and promptly threw up. "Instinct drives them to forego any other activity before this happens. Veela have starved to death before conceiving."

"I will not do any such thing!" She gasped as soon as she was able to come up for air, before turning back to the waste basket to retch again. The headmistress sat patiently in her seat, waiting for Hermione's stomach to settle and for the girl to return to sit in front of her.

"I strongly advise you to at least participate in the chaperoned talks with the boy. If you decide later that you would like option two, then I will be glad to assign someone to chaperone those as well." Minerva's eyes softened as she took Hermione's hand in her own. "Veela have gone mad when separated from their mates too long. I should hate for that to happen to my favorite student."

Professor McGonagall watched the Head Girl for a moment before rising to leave Hermione to her thoughts. Like Hell she was going to agree to shag Malfoy.


	3. Chapter 3

Enchanted

Chapter 3

 

Draco Malfoy slouched in the train compartment seat in a way that his mother would surely admonish him for if she had been present. Instead of righting himself though, the blonde began inspecting the trim of his collar, disregarding the nagging at his conscience.

“’Ey Malfoy.” Draco’s gaze shifted to the lumbering masses that entered his previously silent compartment.

“Hello Crabbe, Goyle. About time you two showed up.” The boys returned their friend’s words with shy grins. At least a half hour had passed since the Hogwarts Express left Platform 9 ¾ and Malfoy had expected his sidekicks ages ago.

“Have either of you seen the trolley?” Both boys shook their heads, which was surprising. They normally would have hunted it down as soon as they boarded the steam engine.

“Come on then.” Draco motioned for the boys to follow him on his hunt. He was craving a chocolate frog at the moment. With any luck, he’d run into Scarhead and his merry men. He could do for a laugh after the miserable summer he’d had.

Sometime later, the Slytherin trio had finally located the sweets trolley and purchased their various snacks. Unfortunately there had been no sign of the Boy-Who-Shouldn’t-Have-Lived; he and his band of fools had probably been in one of the compartments with the curtains drawn. Such a shame.

For the rest of the train ride the three Slytherins kept to their claimed compartment, playing exploding snap. Pansy and Millicent Bullstrode joined them at one point and filled the compartment with their shallow female chatter, much to Draco's annoyance.

When the group arrived at Hogwarts and were seated in the Great Hall, Draco scanned the Gryffindor table for a sign of Potter-the-Prick. His eyes landed on him quickly and he glared at the Gryffindor who had foiled the Dark Lord’s ultimate plan the previous year. Sure, Dumbledore was dead, but that was thanks to Snape, the poor sod. Not that Draco was interested in seeing Voldemort rise to power, quite the opposite. Ever since that snake-faced bastard moved into his family’s manor, Draco’s life had been Hell. He was constantly avoiding the monster, fearing that he would be summoned for another suicide mission.

“Who the Hell’s _that_?” The blonde turned to Pansy in question, The pug-faced girl motioned back towards the Gryffindor table. That was when Draco noticed who Scarhead was talking to. He was certain he had never seen the witch before, yet at the same time, she seemed so familiar. After a moment of staring, he felt his pulse quicken and a flush come over him.

“Merlin, Draco stop drooling over the Mudblood!” Draco’s attention snapped back to Pansy.

“Who?”

“It’s Granger. She must've done something to her god awful hair,” Pansy sneered, glowering towards the Gryffindor table.

“Granger?” Draco glanced back at the curly silver head. Yes, he could see it now. Her honey brown eyes shone as they seemed to search the room. The Slytherin took a moment to wonder that it would feel like to run his fingers through her now soft curls.

Draco shook his head quickly to clear his thoughts. What was he doing? He couldn’t waste time fantasizing about the Gryffindor Mudblood princess! He shifted in his seat, attempting to tame the bulge that had begun to tent his trousers. As soon as the welcome feast was over, Draco rushed from the hall, eager for a cold shower.

The following morning, Draco spotted Granger almost as soon as he stepped into the Great Hall. She was sitting with Potter and Weasley, but wasn’t paying them any mind; her eyes were searching the room again. A part of him desperately wanted to meet her gaze, but he had no idea what he would say. Should he insult her, as he usually would? No, that wouldn’t do. How could he continue to insult her when she was having this unexplainable effect on him? He had a feeling he would lose his words as soon as he opened his mouth, if he even tried. Instead, Draco simply sat at his usual spot between Parkinson and Goyle and watched her from across the room.

Draco and his fellow Slytherins, along with the rest of the entire student body it seemed, had noticed the unusual changes in the Gryffindor princess over the course of the rest of the day and during the next two meals. As Draco watched her from his spot across the Hall, he continued to see that Granger glanced around the room, her eyes continuously searching. What were they looking for? Draco desperately wanted to know, but could think of no way to organically begin a conversation with her that wouldn't likely ending up with her socking him in the nose again, like that one time...

Over the next several days, Draco’s mealtime activity quickly changed from scowling at Harry Potter, to stealing glances at Hermione Granger. He couldn’t explain what exactly was drawing him to her, especially since, once he left the room, his emotions returned to their usual sourness. Malfoy had almost come to look forward to his meals, because it seemed being in the Gryffindor’s presence had allowed him to temporarily forget that Lord Voldemort was currently occupying his family’s manor and essentially holding his family hostage in their own home.

That was why, a few days after first noticing her, he was panicked to discover that she was missing from the Great Hall during breakfast. He immediately tried to calm himself with the reassurance that she had probably slept in, or was skipping the meal in exchange for an early study session in the library. However, when she went missing from lunch as well, Draco become noticeably uneasy. He wasn't worried for the girl, of course not. That would be ridiculous. But he had rather hoped she would be nearby for her strange ability to ease his sorrows and worries for his family.

"Drake, are you alright?" Asked Pansy almost three weeks into term. "You've been so morose lately. Is it...You-Know-Who?" The last bit she said in a hushed whisper, careful not to be overheard by their peers. Draco nodded; it was the truth after all.

"Have you heard anything? Are your parents able to write?"

"Yes, I imagine their letters are being vetted though. Apparently everything's just peachy," he replied with a sneer. He immediately regretted his sarcasm. Pansy was just trying to be a good friend, there was no need for him to be rude. She didn't seem to mind though, as she readjusted her school bag over her shoulder and gave his arm a reassuring squeeze, before leading the way from the Great Hall after finishing their breakfast.

It was strange. As they approached the entrance to the corridor, the pair noticed almost every student already in the Entrance Hall was at a complete standstill, staring in one direction. Draco hoped it wasn't a repeat of second year, with a dead chicken and a petrified cat hanging from the wall.

No, what met him when he arrived in the doorway was quite different indeed. So different in fact that he hadn't had any time to see what nearly tackled him to the floor before he felt a sudden and uncontrollable urge to wrap his arms around it and return its breath-stealing kisses with rivalled passion. Whatever, _who_ ever had collided with his mouth tasted like heaven, smelled like sex, and was igniting a response in him he would never have imagined had it not actually been happening at that very moment.

He pushed the creature against the stone wall of the corridor, desperate to taste more of it. Through a growing fogginess in his head, he nipped and sucked along its jawline, before quickly making his way to its neck, when he heard it, _her_ moan greedily. Draco could feel the bulge in his trousers growing and he grabbed her bum to rub her against his length, so she could feel what was ready for her.

Then, too soon, they were ripped apart. He wasn't ready to leave her and he fought against the arms of the astronomy professor who held him at bay. He could see the creature... _Granger_? She was struggling just as valiantly as he was to return to their previous passionate position. He was momentarily confused, but the fogginess in his head urged him to continue to fight his way back to the silver-haired woman, so he fought.

He failed though, after McGonagall stepped into the corridor and ordered the professors about. Draco was dragged away, unable to escape. After a few moments though, his thoughts cleared and he became intensely aware that he had just snogged Granger in the Entrance Hall in front of half the school. His eyes widened and his cheeks burned with embarrassment at the realization.

"What the fuck was _that_ , Draco?" Parkinson had apparently followed as he was being taken from the rather intense scene and stood before him with her arms crossed, awaiting an explanation.

"I-I have no idea."

"Oh, so you just decided to snog the mudblood for fun, spur of the moment?"

"I...that...maybe?" Draco chided himself for not voicing his thoughts clearly, but he really didn't understand what had happened himself. He blinked at Pansy for a moment and she seemed to catch on that he might not truly understand entirely what had happened.

"So, what, she just jumped you and you figured you'd go for it?" This certainly seemed like the most reasonable explanation, so Draco nodded, not trusting his voice at the moment. At least this way, Draco would just appear to be seizing an opportunity for a good snog. Or whatever quality snog he told the school...it _was_ pretty amazing though...

Pansy sighed and rubbed her forehead in frustration.

"Could you not do that again though? I know you're into showmanship and all, but that was getting a little too hot and heavy for public consumption, if you know what I mean." Draco flushed, remembering his overly excited state, and reached down to cover his new little problem (which was not _little_ by any means). Pansy smirked knowingly.

"I'll cover you for Potions. Go take a cold shower, would you?" She didn't wait for him to respond before she turned back in the direction of the Entrance Hall, where she had dropped her school bag in her rush to follow Draco.

Draco made it to his afternoon classes without hearing any whispers about what he had been involved in that morning. Either everyone was too afraid of him to say anything, or he was getting worse at eavesdropping. The Slytherin certainly hoped it was the former. Pansy seemed to be the only person who gave any indication that she knew anything about the altercation, as she would occasionally make exaggerated kissy faces and giggling at him during class.

Draco didn't see Granger at dinner, and was relieved for it. He wasn't sure if she would want to acknowledge _whatever_ it was that came over her...them. Since no one else in the school seemed to be mentioning it, Draco was perfectly content to pretend it never even happened.

He had a rather pleasant evening with his dormmates. Pansy had gone off for a walk with Nott, leaving Draco to head off to the quidditch pitch with Crabbe and Goyle. He hadn't had the opportunity to go flying while he was home, being that the Dark Lord might see him and order him to do something ghastly. No, had confined himself to his room as much as possible those past few months, only emerging when absolutely necessary.

The three boys chased each other around the pitch for a time and at one point Draco flew higher than the others, to take in the view of the grounds. He could see far over the forbidden forest. Then there was the lake, with Pansy and Theo standing near a tree beside it, close enough to be snogging. They probably were. Then there was the Astronomy Tower, specifically the archway that Dumbledore's body had tumbled from. Draco's gaze travelled back to the ground. And there was that great oaf, Hagrid's, hut, where his godfather had fallen at the hands of Harry Potter.

Draco was far from stupid, he knew Potter wasn't all that special. That damned half-giant had managed to distract the group of Death Eaters long enough for Scarhead to blast Snape with the same curse he used on him in that bathroom.

Draco didn't feel like flying anymore. He drifted back to the ground and waved his friends goodbye. They had chosen to stay a while longer to take advantage of the daylight. When the blonde arrived at the Slytherin common room he figured he would get a start on his homework before his Prefect rounds that night. He only hoped it would go by quickly so he could manage to get a decent night's sleep for once.

The hours droned on and the rest of the Slytherins trickled back into the common room. Parkinson and Nott looked especially worse for wear. Draco didn't think he had ever seen the girl with a hair out of place, let alone a twig sticking out of it. He raised an eyebrow at her, signaling that he understood what she had been doing with their Housemate. She just returned his gaze with a smirk of her own, unashamed of her actions.

Some time later, Draco checked the time and saw that he was due to begin his rounds. He picked up his wand from the table where his textbooks had been strewn about and rose to leave the room. He would tidy things up when he returned.

His walk about the castle was as uneventful as usual. He rarely caught students out past curfew, and even if he did, he rarely took action against them. It just wasn't worth the trouble. Normally he would just order them back to their dorms. If he suspected anyone was out tonight, he might not even do that much. He just didn't have it in him at the moment.

As he neared the end of his rounds and he approached the Ravenclaw corridor, he felt his pulse quicken. He glanced around the torchlit hall and saw nothing, but he was a Death Eater and Death Eaters know there were many shadows where dangers could be hiding. He cast a quiet _lumos_ as his head began to lighten and a pleasant sensation began to overtake his senses. He heard light, but hurried footfalls coming from behind him, so he turned towards the sound.

She was there, approaching him quickly. That fogginess in his head morphed his vision into a dream-like haziness and Draco wasn't sure why, but he immediately rushed to join her, crushing his lips to hers when they met. He heard her elicit something between a moan and a whimper as she latched her arms around his neck and he walked her backwards into a suit of armor. As the passionate couple bumped off the figure, the blonde felt one of Granger's legs slither up to his waist to pull him closer, causing his already hard cock to rub against her pelvis.

When he felt the vixen roll her hips into his arousal, Draco felt his knees begin to buckle, so he slid them both to the floor where he could appreciate her body more thoroughly. He wasted no time in removing her blouse, ripping it open with the satisfying sounds of buttons bouncing off the stone walls. During the moment he took in between divesting Granger of her topmost covering and returning his mouth to hers, he noticed she had begun to fumble with the tie he hadn't thought to remove before he left the common room. He grinned at his attempt and stopped her by moving his mouth down her jaw, towards the mounds of her breasts. There he slowly unclasped the garment before banishing it with his wand. Draco's hazy thoughts knew this action would get a pleasurable rise out of the witch before his mouth descended on one of the peaks. She made the most delectable sounds.

Her fingers tugging at his hair and her thighs sliding along his waist only encouraged him further, so he slid his non-wand arm through the loop of her legs that were wrapped around him to touch two fingers to the near-soaking fabric between them. His already hard cock grew even more so and he felt a slight moan escape his lips at his impossibly growing arousal.

"Yes!" She cried out as he gently rubbed his thumb against the fabric covering her most sensitive parts. Yes, he would thoroughly enjoy hearing her call out his name as she came. Draco slid the fabric up her legs before banishing those too, with his wand. He was then able to better appreciate the view of what she was offering him.

"My God, you're beautiful." It was true. Draco was sure it was the truest statement he had ever said.

Tilting his head to the side, he pressed a soft kiss to the inside of her thigh, feeling her shiver in pleasure under his touch. He was enjoying the reactions of his witch immensely. He turned and kissed the other. He did this three more times, inching closer to her warm wetness with every touch.

Quite suddenly, Draco found himself hovering on the other side of the corridor, in a near-full body bind. What the Hell? The Slytherin tried to move, but felt invisible cords wrapped around him, preventing him from so much as lifting an arm.

"Where are you?" He heard from the other side of the corridor. She was searching for him and her voice was desperate. He needed to find her, but his blasted wand had gone out as he'd apparently dropped it. Draco was about to call out to his witch, but then a third voice made itself known.

"Miss Granger, I've been searching for you for ages." It was McGonagall. The bitch! What right did she have to stop them doing whatever the fuck they wanted?

"What have you done! Let him go!" Draco heard the almost pain in her voice before he watched as Hermione bounced off some kind of barrier the Headmistress must have erected. He struggled to break free, but only succeeded in shifting his shoulders by an inch.

"You're not in your right mind at the moment. I assure you, once you and Mr. Malfoy have been separated, you will see reason. I believe we need to discuss some more details about your inheritance as well." He continued to struggle, even though he had no idea what the old biddy was going on about "inheritance." Draco decided to reflect on that later, but for the moment he needed to reach his witch and finish what they had started.

"I want nothing to do with your discussions! Return my mate!" It was certainly not a term Draco had thought to describe their newfound relationship, but he supposed it was as good as any other. He would much rather say 'lover', 'boyfriend', hell even 'partner'. 'Mate' took a bit of the sensuality out of the experience in his opinion.

No matter what Hermione chose to call what they had, one thing was for sure, Draco needed to reach her. He struggled some more, shooting death glares towards the older witch beside him. He saw his mate approach with a look ready to kill. He certainly wouldn't object if that was the route she chose. They had been dealt a great injustice!

As the young woman got closer though, a slight tearing sound echoed off the walls and Draco saw great scaled wings sprout from his lover's back. To anyone else, they might have appeared menacing, but all Draco could think was how mesmerizing they were. The colored scales reflecting the torchlight sent rainbows around the corridor in an effect not unlike stained glass windows, but she didn't seem to notice any of this as the Headmistress said some more nonsense and shot the Head Girl with a _stupefy_.

He screamed. And screamed. And screamed bloody murder. Of course, Draco knew Hermione wasn't dead, but to see her treated so, when they had just been about to make love wrenched his heart from his chest. He cursed the Headmistress as she pursed her lips and stupefied him too.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Draco awoke to an astounding headache, with Goyle perched over him.

" _What_?" He croaked.

"Just checking if you're alright. Slughorn had me get you from the hospital wing last night. What happened?" Draco mulled over the events of the previous night in an attempt to remember. Everything was very unclear, except for one thing. Hermione Granger.

The very same mudblood he had been taunting for the past seven years had somehow managed to slither her way into his fantasies. Draco found himself quite enjoying the idea of bedding the Gryffindor, despite her shortcomings, which he hated to admit appeared to be next to none.

Draco then noticed his friend was still standing by his bedside, waiting somewhat patiently for an explanation.

"Nothing happened. I must've fallen asleep or something." The Malfoy heir was embarrassed to confess to the lie but could think of no reasonable alternative on such short notice. Goyle didn't seem to think anything of it, as he shrugged and turned to leave the dormitory.

After Draco took some time to change into fresh clothes (he was still dressed in the previous nights rumpled attire), he heard a tapping at the window. He allowed the small school owl inside, letting it pick out of the tin of treats he normally kept at his bedside and tore open the Hogwarts seal.

_Mr. Malfoy,_

_Your presence is required in the office of the headmistress at 8:30am._

He scoffed at the brief note and tossed it in the waste bin. He couldn't quite remember what McGonagall had to do with the events of last night, but he was certain he was angry with her. He carried that anger with him through his quick breakfast and up the stairs towards her office.

"Mr. Malfoy, what a pleasure you could join me." The Slytherin had made sure to arrive at 8:31am, just to spite the old hag. "Please, sit." He did, with a scowl plastered to his otherwise pleasant features the entire time.

"Am I in trouble _Headmistress_?"

"No, no. Not at all. I fact, I believe congratulations are in order." Congratulations? Whatever for? Was she mocking him? Draco couldn't be sure.

" _Why_?"

She didn't answer him right away, instead taking a seat next to him, in the accompanying armchair reserved for guests. Draco had a feeling this wasn't legitimately good news he was about to hear.

"Tell me, Mr. Malfoy. What do you know about Veela?" Confused, he responded as honestly as he could.

"Er-They're beautiful women who can attract men, much like sirens."

"Yes, that's true. And what about their mating habits?" This conversation was taking a very strange turn, but Draco opted to play along with her game. He only hoped she wasn't turning into another Dumbledore, with his riddles.

"Not much. Only that it's an honor to be chosen as a Veela's mate." McGonagall pursed her lips at him in thought.

"Somewhat true," she leaned back in her armchair. "It is an honor, yes, but a Veela does not _choose_ a mate."

"I don't understand what you're getting at."

"When a Veela encounters the one who will become her mate, an instinct takes over her, much like love at first sight." Draco scoffed at the notion, but the professor stared him down, so he muffled his laugh behind his hand.

"And why are we discussing the love lives of magical creatures, Headmistress?" She smirked at the boy before her.

"Because you are already deeply entrenched in one yourself."

"...Excuse me?" Was McGonagall suggesting that he was a magical creature? Had the woman gone batty? He assumed it would happen sooner or later, but not _this_ soon. He began to laugh quite forcefully. McGonagall sat silently and watched him until his laughter subsided and he sat back with a smug look on his face.

"Yes, Miss Granger truly has blossomed these past few weeks, hasn't she?" That question wiped the smugness clean off Draco's face.

"What?" Never in his life had Draco ever spoken so ineloquently as he had in these past few minutes.

"It has come to my attention that the two of you are a mated pair, as Miss Granger has recently come into her Veela inheritance."

Draco was dumbfounded. Completely speechless. _Granger_? A _Veela_? The suggestion was ridiculous. She was a Mudblood! Mudbloods didn't just _become_ magical creatures! Let alone becoming intoxicating, delectable, heart-poundingly beautiful magical creatures!

Before Draco had a proper moment to let this information settle in and accept it, the Headmistress moved the conversation on to another topic.

"Yes, it seems the two of you could be in for quite a bit of mischief if certain precautions aren't made now." She paused to stand from her chair and settle back into her Headmistress seat. "I've already spoken to Miss Granger and she has agreed to meet with you during chaperoned visits. I-"

"Wait."

"Yes, Mr. Malfoy?" Draco had a hard time remembering everything that happened the previous two times he encountered the witch, no it was _Veela_ now, but he did remember not being able to keep his hands off her.

"I-Chaperoned? We..."

"Yes, I'm fully aware of the kinds of things that go through your minds when the two of you are put in the same room. This is why there will be a barrier between you both so you can keep your wits about you as you discuss you next chosen course of action." Draco nodded, not really trusting his voice to function properly.

The pair sat in silence for a few moments, while the Prefect stared at nothing in particular.

"Your first meeting will be here tomorrow evening, after dinner. Does that time work for you? I already know Miss Granger has no Head Girl responsibilities." Draco nodded again.

"Should I bring something? Earplugs?"

"No, that won't be necessary. I'll have a special window set up for the two of you so the effects of her inheritance will be dampened enough not to cause any harm or...otherwise." Draco stood from his chair.

"If that will be all, Headmistress, I'm late for class."

"Of course, Mr. Malfoy. I look forward to seeing you and Miss Granger tomorrow evening."

"Goodbye."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: I must admit I’m pretty impressed with myself and how quickly I managed to produce this chapter. I don’t want you guys to get your hopes up thinking I’ll be able to keep up this quick updating thing going. Enjoy it while it lasts. Grad school is kicking my ass, so there may be times I can’t update as fast. Please be patient when that happens!   
> Love you all<3 Please comment!


	4. Chapter 4

Hermione sat in the armchair in the Headmistresses office, twisting the edge of her skirt into a rumpled mess. The older witch had told her not to attend classes that day and Hermione completely understood, although she wasn’t sure how she would be able to complete her final year if she couldn’t attend classes.

She was not looking forward to this meeting with Malfoy. What would she even say to him? What would he say to her? This whole situation was just completely bonkers and she desperately wished it was all a dream and she’d wake up on her beach chair, realizing she drifted off under the sun with her parents. That seemed unlikely.

She glanced at the grandfather clock sitting on the opposite side of the room. Five more minutes and Draco Malfoy would be sitting across from her, on the other side of the magical barrier Professor McGonagall had erected to keep her Veela instincts at bay. She had admitted that she’d never used it before, but had heard good things from those who had.

Four more minutes.

Hermione reached out and tapped a finger to the nearly invisible barrier and watched as the shimmering surface rippled where her fingertip touched it. She sighed, wanting to get this over with and at the same time never wanting to go through it in the first place.

Three more minutes.

McGonagall was scribbling away at her desk. She was to be their chaperone. Honestly, Hermione wasn’t sure why a chaperone was even necessary if the barrier would make sure that nothing sexual happened. The thought of doing anything sexual with Malfoy made Hermione shiver. Merlin Forbid!

Not wanting to seem like she had put in extra effort for the Syltherin, but also not wanting to look like a slob, Hermione gave her uniform a once-over for any lint or wrinkl-

A knock came at the door. He was two minutes early!

“Come in,” McGonagall called from her desk without looking up. What was the woman thinking? Didn’t she understand how mortified Hermione was? Why did he come early? Why couldn’t he be late? Did the universe hate her?

The silvery blonde head of Draco Malfoy popped into the office, immediately searching it. His eyes landed on Hermione, sitting behind the magically erected barrier towards the left side of the room. She wasn’t able to identify the expression on his face when she locked eyes with him. It wasn’t his usual disgust, maybe…nervousness?

“Please take a seat Mr. Malfoy. Make yourself comfortable.” The headmistress motioned to the armchair that had been positioned on the opposite side of the invisible barrier. “I think an hour should be enough for the two of you.” She told the pair as she overturned a gigantic hourglass on her desk.

Hermione watched as the Slytherin stalked over to her. She wasn’t sure if the barrier was working properly; she didn’t exactly want to shag him on the spot, but she felt a slight quell in the pit of her stomach. She tried to tell herself it was just nerves as she watched as he sat in the plush chair and stared at her.

She grew increasingly uncomfortable under his gaze, which only made the quivering in her belly grow to the point that she couldn’t blame only her nerves. She gripped the arms of the chair, attempting to prevent herself from reaching out to him. She still didn’t feel an untamable urge to have her way with him, but the desire to touch him was growing. She mentally chided herself for feeling this way just from having him look at her. Whoever told McGonagall about the trustworthiness of this barrier must have been exaggerating.

“Malfoy,” she blurted out, trying to break the growing tension.

“Granger.”

They paused, glancing around the room.

“So, you’re a Veela?”

“Very observant.” He quirked an eyebrow.

“How’d that happen?” His question reminded her of her parents’ deception, suddenly dragging down her mood and she dropped her gaze to her hands, which were still fidgeting with the hem of her skirt.

“I, uh, was adopted…apparently.” She glanced up at the boy for his reaction. He didn’t say anything but she could see that his face was becoming slightly flushed. “So that means I’m not a mudblood, _Malfoy_.”

“Yea, I was able to determine that for myself, _Granger_.” He scowled at her, appearing to regain some of his normal self. “But what to call you now?” He smirked a bit in his usual Malfoy way.

“My friends call me Hermione. But Granger will do for you,” she sneered at him, despite the growing effect his presence was having on her. Her skin was growing warm and the feel of a bead of sweat trailing down her back made her shiver.

“No, I think I’ll need to get a bit more creative,” he told her as he crossed his arms and leaned towards her. “Just give it time.”

“Sod off, Malfoy.” Hermione had begun to take slow, deep breaths to compose herself. How the hell was she feeling this way if he was shut off from her? She was supposed to be safe!

“No, I don’t think I will. I rather like seeing you riled up.” His admission made her face blush crimson and she was unsure if he was experiencing the same influence she was or if he was just being his typical git self.

“You’re insufferable!”

“And I think you like it.” He quirked an eyebrow at the Head Girl again, obviously noticing the blush that had been creeping onto her face and neck.

She knew he wouldn’t be able to hear her heart beating faster, but attempted to cover her chest, just in case he could see it pounding through. Damn McGonagall! She said the barrier would keep her safe! She told herself to keep calm and gripped the ends of the armchair harder, her knuckles going white with restraint. She needed to feel him.

She was disappointed to see that Malfoy seemed to be having a much easier time with their meeting than she was. He was leaning on the edge of his seat, no doubt to antagonize her, and glaring at her with an almost predatory gaze.

“And what is it _you_ like?” Hermione asked him, her inhibitions slowly chipping away. The blonde scrunched his eyebrows at her, confused.

“Excuse me?”

“You heard me.” Sweat was trickling down the base of her neck and her thighs shifting together. “What. Do. You. Like?”

Malfoy’s expression changed to something akin to panic. He sat up straighter in his seat and fiddled with his tie. With a newfound confidence, Hermione continued.

“Suddenly so shy Malfoy? What is it? Do you like me?” The Gryffindor’s emotions warred within her between fighting the growing influence of her inheritance and simply giving in. She worried her bottom lip as the internal battle raged on.

“Of course not!” He said too forcefully for it to be true. Hermione smirked and stood up, gaining a sense of superiority over the blonde. She laid a hand against the barrier, allowing it to ripple.

“Then tell me.” Her voice had taken on a huskier tone and Hermione spied McGonagall peeking at the pair from the corner of her eye, her scribbling halted. “What’s got your wand in a knot Malfoy?” She narrowed her eyes at him, attempting once more to push aside the growing need in her belly.

For a moment, Malfoy looked speechlessly up at the Head Girl. Hermione grinned to herself in victory as she watched his mouth form an ‘O’. Her lips tingled with the urge to press themselves to his as his mouth shut, opened, and shut again. But then the blonde bastard gathered himself again and stood too, giving her his signature smirk. This time though, the Gryffindor thought she saw a slight twinkle in his eyes.

“I like my women feisty, angel.” Malfoy pressed his hands firmly against the barrier, as if to break though.

“I’m not your angel.” Hermione tried to fight the urge to break through the barrier herself, even though she could feel her knickers dampen at the sound of Malfoy’s new nickname for her.

“You sure about that? Because you look heavenly.” Hermione’s eyes widened at her long-time enemy’s blatant compliment.

Then she noticed how dilated his pupils had become and the flush that had taken over his neck and the small bit of chest visible above his collar. Suddenly she became aware that his control over the way her inheritance was affecting him had waned and his lust was taking over. Unconsciously, she felt herself press her own body against the barrier, trying to get closer to her mate with the knowledge that he wanted her just as badly. She saw him do the same, groaning when his slowly tenting trousers pressed against the shimmering surface.

“Professor,” Hermione breathed against the surface. Malfoy nuzzled the barrier separating them.

“Yes, Miss Granger?” McGonagall had been pretending not to pay attention to the couple, even though Hermione was well aware it was a ruse.  

“Y-you….”Hermione was having an increasingly difficult time forming a coherent thought. “You said we were safe.”

“You are safe, Miss Granger.” Damn McGonagall. She must’ve been spending too much time talking to Dumbledore’s portrait. Hermione wasn’t sure if McGonagall had known how ineffective the barrier would be, but her anger with the Professor was quickly being cast away as the tension built inside her.

“N-no.” As Hermione clawed at the barrier, she could see Malfoy attempting to fight against the sensations he was no doubt experiencing; his expression kept shifting between bliss and frustration. The Head Girl turned to face the Headmistress, pleading with the woman to make the Slytherin leave.

“If you don’t want to see Mr. Malfoy, I’d suggest asking him to leave yourself.” McGonagall was quickly becoming Hermione’s most hated professor. She turned back to the blonde before her.

“Ma-mmm…” A shiver of pleasure wracked through her body and her knees almost buckled. “M-Malfoy.” He locked eyes with her and emitted a pleasured sigh. “You n-need to leave.”

“Never.” She shook her head at his words, trying to clear her foggy mind.

“No, Malfoy…”Her body pressed itself against the barrier even more firmly, applying pressure to her now sensitive nipples through her blouse. She moaned at the sensation. “Y-you…you need to.”

“I need to touch you.” At his request, Hermione felt her resolve almost crumble. She heard herself whimper as she attempted to rebuild her determination.

“Would you like Option Two Miss Granger? Mr. Malfoy seems to be in agreement,” the completely wanton Head Girl heard the Headmistress ask from across the office.

“N-no!” Hermione was panting now. She would have run for the door, but the blasted barrier boxed her into a corner of the room. The only way she would find salvation was if, somehow, Malfoy chose to leave, or if he was removed by force. She was doomed.

Her blouse was brushing sinfully against her skin now, or had it always felt that way? Hermione couldn’t be sure, but her body craved more touch. The blonde on the other side of the barrier was just the wizard to help her.

“Let me touch you,” Malfoy pleaded of the Veela. Before she knew what she was doing, Hermione was nodding her head, rolling it from side to side against the shimmering surface.

Suddenly, she was no longer pressed against the surface, instead being caught by strong arms that smelled positively sinful. Her skin prickled where he held her, and she felt them travel down her arms, tugging at her blouse as he claimed her mouth.

She moaned into the warmth and gasped when his tongue began a battle for dominance with her own. Her nails raked through his hair and he pulled her hips closer to his own so she could feel his hard bulge through his trousers. The Veela moaned again when he lowered her to the floor where they stood and began to divest her of her clothes. Another blouse was quickly ruined, but her bra was pulled over her head.

“Oh God, you feel amazing,” she heard her mate say in between the attentions he was giving her breasts. She shivered as he trailed his fingertips along her sides and nipped and licked at her nipples. Hermione kicked off her shoes to wrap a leg around her mate easier and buck her hips upwards into him. She felt him quiver at the action and fumbled with his trousers.

Hermione shivered with excitement and relished in the coil that was quickly winding in her womb. Eager to move things along faster, the Veela tore her own knickers off from underneath her skirt and wrapped her other leg around her intended, who had successfully removed his trousers and boxers.

“Mr. Malfoy.” Hermione’s head snapped to a hazy vision of the Headmistress, still sitting patiently at her desk. “Nothing that can result in a baby, or else I’ll have to separate you two.” The blonde’s growled in frustration and Hermione whimpered at the tension that had built up between her legs. Malfoy lowered his face to hers and panted in her ear.

“Don’t worry, angel,” She gazed at her lover in confusion before he lowered his wand hand to her wet nether regions and softly stroked her clitoris, causing the Veela to emit the most delectable noises.

She gasped as Draco slid his fingers over the wet nub and trailed kisses down her chest. She looked down briefly and saw him rubbing his own arousal with his other hand, pre-emission shining along the shaft as he stroked. The sight sent another shiver through her sensitive places and she gripped his sides, digging her nails into his skin.

“Oh, Draco! Please!” She wasn’t sure what she was asking for, but she knew he would help her. He glanced up at his Veela and smiled softly, placing another kiss on her collarbone.

“Angel, you never need to beg me for anything.” He told her as he slid a finger into her quim, making her squirm under his touch. She clawed at his back, still partially covered with his own school shirt.

“More!” She cried out as she felt him add a second finger and pick up his pace as his thumb continued to rub her slick nub.

The Slytherin’s mouth found hers once more as he leaned into her, still pumping his own organ, so she could feel his movements against her pelvis. She was so close! She could feel her cervix begin to contract around his fingers, when he added a third. The feel of his thighs pounding into her bottom as he pumped himself above her finally sent her over the edge and she cried out in ecstasy when her orgasm hit her.

A moment later Draco reached his own completion, spilling his seed over her stomach. He deftly rolled onto his side, with his back to the professor who had just witnessed the entire interaction. The couple lay there, pausing a moment to catch their breath.

“I want you inside me,” Hermione whimpered to her lover, pouting as she turned her head to gaze at him. Draco blinked slowly and tilted his head closer so their foreheads were touching.

“I know, love. But this is the way it needs to be for now. This is the only way we can be together.” Hermione felt a tear fall from her eye and drip to the floor. Draco pulled her closer, despite her legs still being wrapped around him, and held her. The Head Girl sighed in the feeling of protectiveness and warmth the embrace gave her. Her hazy thoughts told her that this was the way things were meant to be and she smiled.

“It would appear time is up you two,” they stared at each other in panic at the voice of McGonagall. “Come on, it’s time to go Mr. Malfoy, or I’ll need to remove you myself.”

“No!” Hermione cried out as she saw the Headmistress make her way to the embracing couple. She held onto her lover more firmly, unwrapping her legs in an effort to place herself between the professor and her mate. “He’s staying with me!”

She didn’t get a chance to say another word however, as she saw McGonagall swish her wand and felt Draco quickly dragged out from beneath her. She barely caught sight of him before he was magically pushed out the door, still lying in his rumpled and mostly unclothed state. Hermione scrambled to stand and run to the door, but once his clothes had been magically tossed out with him, it slammed in her face.

Her heart and her head were pounding. At first from panic and grief, but then the haziness in her head cleared and the rush of her pulse was because of the clear deception her formerly-favorite professor had done to her. She stood, facing the heavy wooden door and realized what had just happened in her compromised state.

“What the _fuck_ , Minerva!” Hermione screamed at the older witch who stood in the center of the office with a disapproving gaze at the use of foul language. Hermione gave no thought of the fact that she was completely naked from the waist up in front of the Headmistress. The Veela stomped over to where her torn blouse had been discarded and pulled her arms through the sleeves and noticed the sticky mess on her stomach.

“Ugh!” She picked her wand up from the floor where it had fallen and cast a quick _scourgify_ , still not feeling very clean after the mess was gone.

“I’m not sure what went wrong. I had been told the barrier was effective,” still not looking guilty in the slightest, McGonagall slowly paced across the room, examining the space where the barrier had been erected.

“What are you doing?” Hermione asked, glaring at the evil woman.

“Just searching for any place I might have missed. It’s the only reason I can think of for the barrier being insufficient.” Hermione narrowed her eyes, unsure if she should believe that the altercation had been an accident. The Gryffindor glanced around herself, for any reason the magic may not have worked.

“Oh! This must be it!” Hermione turned her attention to the table standing against the wall that the Headmistress was staring at. It made sense. If McGonagall hadn’t been careful to encircle the entire table with the barrier, then Hermione’s influence still would’ve reached Malfoy and she would still have been able to sense him. It probably wouldn’t have effected them as quickly as it usually did, but they eventually would’ve felt it, obviously. She frowned at the realization that her interaction with Malfoy had not been intentional…however….

“Why did you let the barrier down?” Hermione asked as she rounded on the professor once again.

“You asked me to,” Minerva said simply.

“I did no such thing!”

“You did,” responded the older witch, keeping her voice at a normal level. “You nodded your head when Mr. Malfoy asked to touch you.” Hermione’s face blushed wildly at the reminder of what she had done with the Slytherin.

“I wasn’t myself! I was practically drugged!”

“Well, I apologize, Miss Granger. However, in your right mind or not, if you don’t have these interactions with the boy, you’re very likely to go mad.” Surely McGonagall was exaggerating. Hermione was certain that as long as she kept her distance from the blonde, she could go about her life without any more problems.

A few minutes had passed since Malfoy had been thrown out of the office, so Hermione figured it was safe to return to her dorm. Grabbing her Gryffindor robe that she had deposited on the armchair she sat in earlier, Hermione left the room without so much as a goodbye.

She had been correct in her assumption that Malfoy would be gone. He was probably swaggering back to the Slytherin common room, laughing the whole way at how he got the Gryffindor princess to drop her knickers for him. She hung her head in shame as she reached the bottom of the steps from the Headmistress’s office and headed to her common room.

She didn’t encounter another student until she walked past the Gryffindor common room entrance. As she passed the fat lady, the portrait opened and Ron stepped out. Hermione was about to smile at her friend, but as his eyes locked with hers, she saw them glaze over and she realized what had gone so very wrong.

“Ron?” She asked after he remained motionless for a moment. “Go back inside.”

“Huh? Why would I do that?” He asked as he took a step closer to her, as if he had cornered a frightened animal. It wasn't completely inaccurate. She was frightened, but not for herself.

The Veela took a few steps backward, trying to get away from the boy as quickly as possible and return to the safety of her dorm. The stairs were nearby and Hermione raced up to the next floor. She heaved a great sigh of relief as the stairs decided to move as soon as she stepped onto the next level. Ron had already followed her though and stood at the top of the staircase, which had stopped in the middle of nowhere. The Head Girl began to walk away, to her room when the redhead called out to her.

“Stop! Don’t go! I can make it!” Hermione’s head snapped back to meet his gaze, unsure what he meant, but then gasped in horror as the boy leapt from the staircase, his legs swinging in a running motion towards where she stood.

“RON!” Hermione screamed for her ex-boyfriend, as she watched him began to fall. He had hardly gotten five feet from the stairs. She fumbled for her wand as he dropped quickly past the floors below.

“Wingardium Leviosa!” She jabbed her wand arm into the abyss and prayed to whoever was listening that she had caught him in time. A moment passed in silence and she began to cry in fear. Ron had fallen too far for Hermione to see him from her height.

“Hermione?” A choked sob escaped her lips at the sound of Ron’s voice.

“Ron?” She managed to call out.

“Why am I floating in the Entrance Hall?” The Entrance Hall? She had caught him just as he was about to crash into the first floor. Thank Merlin!

“You’re okay, Ron,” She sobbed again. “I’m going to let you down now.” The Gryffindor did her best to lower him to the floor, even though she couldn’t see what she was doing. She heard the boy call out a ‘thank you,’ so she stood and did her best to compose herself. She had a hard time keeping her hands from shaking though.

That could’ve been very, very bad. She really had to be more careful of being around the other students. Class was still in session, so either Ron was skipping, or he had a free period. Fortunately, Hermione encountered no one else on her way back to her room. When she got there, she locked her bedroom door and cried at the very real possibility that someone might die because of something she couldn't control.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Oh Man you guys! I am just LOVING all this positivity! Keep it coming <3


	5. Chapter 5

Enchanted

Chapter 5

 

Draco lay sprawled on the small landing outside McGonagall’s office for a moment in shock. His vision was beginning to clear and he felt his heart rate slow. Once he was able to collect his thoughts, his pulse quickened again, but in fury, not passion. The blonde wasn’t sure who he was angrier with, the damn Veela or that bitch of a headmistress.

A sudden chill came over his nether regions and he glanced down to see his trousers were still gathered around his ankles. The stone floor was cold, so the Slytherin was quick to stand and correct himself. Not eager to face the Gryffindor when she was ready to emerge from the office, he grabbed the school bag that had been tossed out with him and made his way back to the Slytherin common room.

“Hey,” Pansy called out over the top of her book. Draco plopped onto the plush sofa next to the raven-haired girl.

“Hi.”

“What’s wrong?” The blonde closed his eyes and dropped his head back against the chair. She watched as he took a few calming breaths.

“I just…” He wasn’t sure how to explain what he had just done. And with _whom_. Merlin, could he even trust her with such an inconceivable secret? He hadn’t even completely wrapped his head around this developing absurdity yet.

Draco opened his eyes and saw that his longtime friend was still watching him patiently, waiting for a response. He glanced around the room and saw that they were not alone. At least fifteen other students were spread around the room, and even if Draco was about to completely trust Pansy, he didn’t trust any of the others not to run off to their Death Eater parents with the latest gossip. With a defeated sigh, Draco took his companion’s hand and beckoned her to follow to his dorm room.

“You need a shag?” She asked once she realized where he was leading her. He shook his head and Pansy scrunched her forehead in confusion. The pair had a standing agreement that they could go to each other when in need of sexual release, without complicating their friendship with commitment. Rarely did one turn down an offer once it was placed on the table.

The boy’s dorm was mercifully free of occupants, so the two Slytherins made themselves comfortable on Draco’s bed.

“I need you to keep a secret, Pans.”

“Okay,” the girl answered without hesitation. She knew she wouldn’t have to think about whatever it was. Draco was her best friend; she would do anything for him. It would appear though, that her agreement had done nothing to ease his mind.

“Pinky promise.” Draco stared at Pansy’s attempt at calming him. He hooked her proffered finger with his own with a small smirk.

“It would appear…” he began after another pregnant pause, “that I’ve gotten mixed up with a magical creature.” Pansy’s eyes immediately widened and she frantically scoured his body for signs of damage.

“It wasn’t another hippogriff was it? Merlin, did that damned beast come back and hurt you again?” Draco brushed off her inspecting hands and shook his head.

“No, nothing like that. I’m fine, really,” he added when she gave him a stern glare.

“Well…?”

“It’s a…” Draco watched Pansy become more impatient as he mustered the courage to tell her. “Veela.”

Judging from her initial blank expression, Draco could tell the information needed a moment to sink in. Once it did though, her entire face lit up in awe and excitement.

“Morgana’s left tit, Draco! Congratulations!” The girl threw her arms around the blonde’s neck in a tight hug. She pulled back however, when she realized her best friend sat rigidly unmoving.

“It’s Granger.” The color drained from Pansy’s face and she sobered immediately.

“A…are you okay?”

“Yeah, I think so.” After his brief explanation, Draco was at a loss for what to add to the conversation. His companion fiddled with a short lock of hair, suddenly uncomfortable.

“Well…if that scene in the Entrance Hall is anything to go by, at least you two have chemistry.”

“Really not helping, Pans.”

“What? What do you want me to say?”

“I don’t know! Fuck! What am I gonna tell my parents? The Dark Lord’s definitely going to figure out a way to manipulate this situation.” Draco dropped his head into his palms, elbows resting on his crossed legs.

“Then...” The blonde peeked up at Pansy. “Don’t tell them.” He scoffed at her.

“I mean it.”

“Yeah, that’s sure to get me killed; be realistic. I’m sure word’s already gotten back to You-Know-Who about what happened between us before.”

“He won’t kill you if he doesn’t know about Granger’s inheritance. He’ll probably just think you’re trying to get another notch in your bedpost.”

“No, he won’t kill me, but it’s only September, Pansy. Someone’s going to find out sooner or later. He’ll use my parents against me; I know it.” Pansy frowned at this realization. Her father wasn’t as high-ranking as the Malfoys, but she was very aware of the dangers of displeasing the Dark Lord. She feared for her parents every day. Surely Draco couldn’t sleep at night for fear of what his parents were likely living through at home.

“Then…”

“Oh? Another brilliant idea?” Pansy didn’t appreciate his attitude, but decided to brush it off.

“We’ll have to defect.”

“ _What_ now?”

“You know it’s the only chance you have to save yourself _and_ your family. And I can’t let you do that on your own.”

“What? Pansy, no.” Draco said after a few moments of speechlessness.

“Of course, Draco. Besides, do you really think you could survive on your own with all those self-righteous Gryffindors?” She smirked at him, attempting to ease his anxiety at her suggestion.

“Pansy, he’ll kill you.”

“Only if he finds out.” Draco’s mouth closed to form a thin line, almost a grimace. He had slowly come to realize that his best friend was right. If he wanted any chance of surviving this war, with both his parents alive, he was going to have to switch sides. Dropping his face back into his hands, Draco gave a resigned sigh.

“Fine. Tomorrow. I don’t have the energy to deal with McGonagall again right now.” Pansy nodded in understanding, intensely curious of what actually happened in the Headmistress’s office earlier.

“So…” She began her attempt to pry the information from him. Her tone when uttering that singular word though, had Draco steeling himself for a wide range of uncomfortable topics. “What happened with Granger? Did you shag her?” Draco’s face immediately turned as bright as a tomato.

“Not exactly…” When he said no more, Pansy playfully nudged his shoulder. “I mean… McGonagall was there-”

“She _watched_ you fornicate?” Pansy was appalled. What a pervert the old lady turned out to be.

“She was there to make sure we didn’t go _all_ the way. I doubt she enjoyed watching us go at it. We probably wouldn’t have stopped if she hadn’t been there.”

“Hmm, can’t have you two making a baby yet, huh?”

“You know about that?”

“About what? Making a baby? Yeah, once a Veela gets going the first time, they need to conceive.”

“What else have you been keeping from me?” Draco was shocked that the fellow Slytherin knew something that he didn’t.

“Nothing really. Just that.” A frown tugged at the corners of Draco’s mouth again. He would need to do some research on his predicament soon.

“McGonagall promised we wouldn’t even feel anything though.” Pansy quirked an eyebrow in question. “Earlier, I mean. She had put up some kind of barrier so the inheritance wouldn’t affect us, but it didn’t work.”

“Why would she even make the two of you meet unless she thought you were going to go at it?

“Apparently, if we don’t see each other regularly, she’ll go mad.” Draco couldn’t help but smirk at the thought of Granger going mad with lust for him. Serves her right for getting him involved in this nonsense. McGonagall hadn’t been clear though, about whether or not _he_ would go mad too.

It was getting late and Draco was planning on going with Pansy to see the Headmistress as early in the morning as possible. He shooed her away to her own dorm and went through his nightly routine. By the time he returned to his bed, his dorm mates were preparing as well. Uninterested in engaging in small talk, the blonde untied the dark green curtains surrounding his four-poster bed and drew thme closed.

As he lay in privacy, he finally took a moment to think over what he could remember of his time with the resident Veela. He had noticed her enhanced beauty as soon as he had walked in the room. Her inheritance hadn’t immediately affected him, but he felt drawn to her regardless. The Slytherin had even leaned forward in his seat to hide his growing erection as he made every effort to taunt her and resist her pull.

Cleary her inheritance found its way to his senses when he found himself rubbing himself into the invisible barrier to get closer to her. Draco’s memory then traveled to the way she had squirmed beneath him as he rutted against her and pumped his fingers inside her.

The memory had caused Draco’s organ to grow painfully beneath the Slytherin sheets he lay beneath. He growled slightly at the realization. No wanting to leave the predicament to become a more painful one, he slid his hand under the waistband of his pajama bottoms and gently gripped the quivering member. His hand softly stroked, swiping the tip to collect the bead of moisture that had collected there. Draco continued the motion for a moment in silence, before an image of Granger found its way to his thoughts. He frowned, but felt his cock twitch at the image. Confused, Draco summoned another image of the woman, this time of her moaning blissfully beneath him. The memory spurred his hips to buck, thrusting his cock through his fist faster. Within a few more moments he was spent with a quiet moan and a violent thrust of his hips.

Draco quietly banished the mess he had made before dozing off, mentally chiding himself for his decreased stamina.

 

The next morning, the pair of Slytherins could be found waiting outside Professor McGonagall’s office. They shifted uncomfortably as she approached, returning from breakfast, and inviting them inside.

“Tea?” She asked, pouring a cup from the serving tray to the side of the room. The students politely accepted, having missed breakfast to wait for the older witch. “Now, what can I do for you?” She began as she took her seat behind the ornate desk.

“We want to join the Order of the Phoenix,” Pansy blurted out when Draco hadn’t made a move to say anything. McGonagall raised an eyebrow.

“The Order of the Phoenix, you say? And what makes you think I know anything about that?” The headmistress took a sip of her tea and casually glanced at a page of the _Daily Prophet_ that was open on her desk.

“Don’t play dumb. Everybody who’s anybody knows you’re one of the leaders of that group of misfits,” Draco snarled. Professor McGonagall was not amused.

“Alright, Mr. Malfoy. Let’s say I do know something about the Order of the Phoenix. Why on Earth would you want to join them? Doesn’t this organization fight against the ideals that your own families hold so dear?” The declaration made Draco and Pansy even more uncomfortable. Of course they figured this wouldn’t be easy, but the reminder that they had been on the opposite side of the war all their lives was disconcerting.

“My parents are in trouble, Professor,” Draco attempted to appeal to her empathy. “I’ll tell you anything you want to know. I’ll die if You-Know-Who finds out about Granger and me.”

“And Draco’s my best friend. I can’t let him do this alone.”

Professor McGonagall nodded slowly the whole time the students spoke. She had hoped Mr. Malfoy would come to her upon realizing that he was fated to be with Miss Granger. It certainly didn’t hurt that Miss Parkinson had joined him.

“Alright Mr. Malfoy, Miss Parkinson. I believe you.”

“…Really?” Pansy had thought it would be more difficult to convince the witch.

“Yes, really. Now, I am prepared to gradually introduce you to some other members, but you will need to be patient.” She pulled a quill and some parchment from a desk drawer to make notes for herself. “In the coming days, I will call you here to discuss how you can assist the Order in return for our help.” The Slytherins nodded hesitantly, imagining the use of Veritaserum or torture to retrieve information.

“Why can’t we discuss it now, Professor? We’re ready to share,” Pansy asked.

“That would be wonderful, but I’m afraid I need to discuss this with some of the other members and get more organized.”

“Oh.”

“If I’m not mistaken, the two of you are late for class. Please let Professor Vector know you’ve been with me.” Draco and Pansy nodded in compliance, scooped up their things and made their way to class.

 

Over the course of the next week, Draco and Pansy had both been summoned to the Headmistress’s office, where they met Kingsley Shaklebolt. The dark-skinned wizard lightly interrogated them, mainly asking a series of questions about You-Know-Who, and requesting to extract memories when they were uncomfortable talking about certain topics. The pair cooperated as much as they were able and were promised that their families would receive any assistance possible.

“Granger hasn’t been in classes?” Draco asked one day after Shaklebolt had left. He tried not to sound too curious, but the absence of the Gryffindor had left a slight unease in his chest.

“No, we couldn’t very well have the entire male student body endangering themselves.” Draco nodded in acknowledgement, while scratching at his palm. “Were you interested in seeing her again, Mr. Malfoy?”

“No!” He shouted too forcefully. “Not if she’s not interested, I mean.” To be honest, Draco’s dreams had been plagued with images of the Veela and he had pleasured himself every night to the memory of the meeting they shared. Not that he was about to admit that.

“Well, unfortunately, her trust in my barrier for the two of you has waned and she is determined to keep her distance.” Draco felt his heart constrict. The headmistress somehow seemed to know how the blonde was feeling, because she smiled softly at him. “I doubt she’ll be able to resist the call of her inheritance for much longer. When that happens, I hope you will be willing to help her.”

Draco wasn’t sure how to respond, so he said nothing, opting to take his leave instead.

“Draco! Where you been man?” Zabini asked when the blonde met him at the Slytherin table in the Great Hall. Draco greeted his friend and the two engaged in some casual banter about quidditch.

“You got a rash or something?” The Italian asked at one point, gesturing to the spot on Draco’s arm that he had apparently been scratching at for the past few minutes. It had grown very red, indeed appearing as though he might’ve brushed against something toxic outside. Draco drew his eyebrows together quizzically.

“I don’t think so…save me a seat in potions. I’m gonna go see Pomfrey.” Blaise nodded and waved his friend off.

As Draco made the long trek to the Hospital Wing, the itch grew, travelling from his wrist farther up his arm. By the time he reached the large room, he was frantically undoing his tie to reach the burning sensation that had made its way to his chest, directly over his heart.

“Mad-!” He called out. “Madam Pomfrey!” The stout witch peeked out from her office and hurried over to the distressed student.

“What’s the matter Mr. Malfoy? Can you breathe?” He certainly didn’t look like he couldn’t if the flush that had taken over his face was any indication. Draco had in fact become quite short of breath in the ten or so minutes it had taken to reach the wing.

Pomfrey led him to a bed as he continued to claw at his shirt, searching to relieve the burning itch that had taken over his body. He was vaguely aware that the mediwitch was waving her wand over him and muttering a series of, what he assumed were, diagnostic spells. Finding no cause, the woman summoned a house elf to fetch Professor McGonagall.

Draco writhed on the hospital bed for what seemed like an eternity. Having been subjected to the cruciatus curse more times than he cared to count, Draco could honestly say the growing pain he was experiencing gave the curse a run for its money. He was vaguely aware of Professor McGonagall entering and shouting something.

Sometime later, it could've been a minute or a day or a year, Draco felt a rush of air on his skin and suddenly the weight of a human body collided with him on the bed. If he had been in searing pain a moment before, he wouldn't have known once an intense pleasure rippled through him at the contact. The blonde shivered as a mouth found its way to his own and devoured him. Hands traveled along his sides with feather light touches and he reached out to grasp his savior by the waist. That blissful haze took over his senses and he opened his eyes to see his Veela.

Of course it was her. No one else was able to elicit this kind of reaction in him. Gently, he raised his hand to cup her face as she gazed down at him with her honey brown eyes. Pulling her down to his lips again, Draco felt her grind against him in her straddled position on his hips. The action forced a groan from his throat as he felt the beginning of his arousal grow.

His skin felt like fire everywhere she touched him. She quickly tore open his school shirt and trailed fervent kisses down his jaw and his throat and his chest. There, she stopped to lightly nip at his nipples, sending more jolts of pleasure through his body. She worked the taught skin with her tongue as she slid her hands farther south to undo his belt and trousers. When she had successfully relieved him of the offending garment, her kisses traveled even lower. Draco shivered as her breath ghosted over his throbbing hardness and he dug his fingers in her hair. When she took him into her mouth, the sensation was unlike any Draco had had before. He almost couldn’t stop the urge to buck against her as her head bobbed up and down over him, working him to completion.

He cried out desperately when his orgasm came over him. He couldn’t stop the motion of his hips then, as he spent himself with her mouth still engulfing him. Normally his exertions would have depleted all his energy, but a part of him sensed that his Veela needed completion too. After he caught his breath, the Slytherin spied his lover wiping the corners of her mouth as she watched him recover. Little time was needed however, before he scooped her by her waist and pinned her against the bed. She squealed in delight as he passionately returned the favor.

When she finally came with his head between her thighs, Draco smiled up at her blissful face and maneuvered his way farther up on the bed. There, he slid his arms around her and the pair drifted off to the most peaceful sleep they’d had in weeks.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yay! Chapter 5 is done! I hope you guys liked it  Please leave a comment and let me know!  
> Note: I’ve recently joined a number of Facebook groups: The Slytherin Cabal, Dramione Fanfiction Forum, The Death Eater Express, and others. So, if you’d like to find some other amazing stories, I highly recommend joining! (Since much of content is for mature audiences though, most of these groups are only for people 18+)


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hi all. Thank you so much for your patience! I would’ve loved to update sooner, but grad school demanded my undivided attention. This isn’t exactly my longest chapter, but I hope I make up for that with content?   
> Much love!

Enchanted

Chapter 6

 

The day after that disaster of a meeting, Hermione reluctantly sat across from Professor McGonagall, telling the woman that she would not be meeting with the Slytherin blonde anytime in the near future. The Headmistress looked thoroughly distraught and attempted, in vain, to convince the Head Girl to reconsider. The Veela wasn’t sure if the mishap was intentional or not, but McGonagall’s behavior recently led Hermione to distrust the older witch more than she ever believed he would.

Her next order of business was scheduling private tutoring sessions to replace her classes. She had already missed several days of lessons but, while she had not yet fallen behind, if she didn’t receive instruction soon from a structured curriculum, that might change. The Veela left the Headmistress’s office satisfied with the knowledge that she didn’t have to see Malfoy again and that her studies wouldn’t lag, despite not attending classes with her fellow Gryffindors. She was a bit put off that Minerva relieved her of Head Girl duties though, essentially banishing Hermione to her dorm for the remainder of the year. She had tried to argue that coming across students breaking curfew was rare, but had the feeling that the new arrangement was punishment for foregoing her Veela meetings.

The next several days passed by rather peacefully, except for the heartbreaking moments when Hermione had to turn away Harry ad Ron, who had knocked on the portrait to the Head dorms. She so wanted to cry on their shoulders and tell them everything, but that would be impossible until her Veela allure died down, and apparently that wouldn’t happen until she’d conceived Malfoy’s spawn.

Hermione sat on her bed, reading a lengthy tome for a transfigurations essay, when she heard an owl tapping away at her window. It was Pig. A wide smile broke out across her face as she sprung off the mattress and allowed the Ron’s owl inside. The eccentric bird zoomed around the living space, dropping a piece of parchment in the floor in the process. Smiling to herself, Hermione pulled out a few treats from her bedside table, before picking up the missive from the carpet.

She immediately recognized Ginny’s handwriting and quickly read the short note with renewed excitement.

 

_H-_

_We need to talk. I’ll be over during lunch._

_-G_

 

Hermione frowned and reread the brief note. Would it be wise to let Ginny into her dorm? Surely. She wasn’t likely to fall under the influence of her Veela inheritance, being female. Thinking of no real reason to keep the redhead at arm’s length, the Head Girl resolved to allow the fellow Gryffindor in when she arrived. She said she wanted to talk. Hermione had no doubt what the subject would be. She almost considered lying to her friend, but that wouldn’t make any sense. Her Veela inheritance wasn’t a passing phase she could sweep under the rug. This was who she would be for the rest of her life, and to make matters worse, she’d be chained to Malfoy for the rest of it.

Or maybe not. She had already survived about a week without so much as seeing him in passing. She could manage avoiding him for longer, couldn’t she?

Noon rolled around before too long and the Veela had a tea service ready in the common room, courtesy of the Hogwarts elf staff. She made sure to only request help from the few elves who received a salary. Anthony had left for lunch already, so he was safe from Hermione’s attraction. A knock sounded at the portrait hole before the red-haired Gryffindor’s voice called out for the Head Girl.

“Hermione? Did you get my owl?” Instead of responding, the Veela walked over to the entrance to the common room and hesitantly opened the door. She had her wand out, in case Ginny or any possible passersby’s suffered ill-effect from Hermione’s presence. There weren’t any. Ginny stood before her, her lips pressed in a concerned line.

“Can I come in?” Hermione hesitated, still waiting for something terrible to happen. But, when she spotted a boy heading in their direction from across the hall, Hermione grabbed her friend’s arm and pulled her inside before he could fall under her spell.

The pair made themselves comfortable on the plush sofa as the tea served itself. Ginny stared at Hermione, unsure who should begin their conversation. After a moment of deliberation, she figured she had sent the letter, so she might as well be the one to do it.

“What’s been going on with you?”

“I-“ Hermione began but stopped. She fiddled with a lock of silver hair as she tried to think of what to tell Ginny.

“You’re a Veela, aren’t you?” Hermione gaped at the Gryffindor, completely gob smacked.

“What? How’d you know?” Ginny scoffed and a tiny grin broke out on her mouth.

“Luna mentioned it a few days ago. The boys and I didn’t believe her at first, but I gotta admit, it makes sense. First, you hair. Then every boy in school goes bonkers over you. You SNOG Malfoy. And now you’re avoiding Harry and Ron?”

The Head Girl frowned. Yes, when you looked at everything like that, it seemed pretty obvious. Except, Hermione hadn’t even known Veela could come into an inheritance.

“I hadn’t suspected before Luna said anything. She explained her theory about you coming into your inheritance at breakfast the other day…she’s right about that, isn’t she? I might’ve owled Fleur, but she and Bill are on holiday.” Hermione could only nod from her position with her face in her hands.

“Gin, what am I going to do? I can’t spend the rest of my life like this, locked in a tower forever!” Ginny chewed her lip in thought.

“I suppose I can contact Fleur once she gets back, that’s only a few days from now. Maybe you could get a job with the Bulgarian quidditch team?” Ginny tried to joke.

“Not funny.”

“Yeah…I know. So, it looks like you’ve been dealing with this a while. Knowing you, you have a plan.” Hermione glanced up from her hands and frowned.

“Sort of. Although it’s not really MY plan and I don’t quite like it either…but it seems like the only option.”

“What? Locking yourself in a tower for the rest of your life? I thought you just said you can’t do that. And besides, Harry, Ron and I won’t let you.”

“No, that’s not it, although that might be for the better. As a Veela, I will have a mate. And apparently, once I…uh, how do I even explain this without gagging?” At this point the young woman stood from her spot on the couch and paced the room for a moment. The red-head did her best to be patient, but the anticipation was killing her.

“He’s…I need to….”

“Dear Merlin, out with it already!”

“I need to get pregnant!”

“Oh,” Ginny sighed, relaxing her shoulders against the backrest of the couch. “Is that all? Well, obviously you can put that off for a while, can’t you? You’re not looking to get knocked up anytime soon.”

“That’s the problem! I’m not looking to shag Malfoy! He’s absolutely horrid and-”

“Wait, I’m sorry, what’s Malfoy got to do with it?”

“He’s my mate!” Hermione was near hysterics and didn’t know how to return to a normal speaking volume. Ginny’s face contorted into a sneer of disgust. “I can’t have Malfoy’s Slytherin monsters! I can’t shag him!” Her pacing became more hurried and Ginny worried she would wear a path in the carpet.

“Then don’t.”

“I have to. If I don’t, I’ll go mad.” She still wasn’t sure how exactly her inheritance would force her to go mad, but the Veela tried to sit down and calm herself, only managing to perch herself on the edge of the cushion, ready to spring up in an instant. “Besides, if I don’t I won’t be able to go in public without risking the lives of any man around me. I already nearly killed Ron.”

“What? When?” The younger witch wasn’t particularly concerned for her brother, he was fine after all, but he had made no mention of having his life threatened in the recent past.

“The other day. I was walking back from McGonagall’s and I ran into him. He jumped off a stairwell.”

“How very Gryffindor of him, getting bravery confused with foolishness.” Hermione couldn’t help but release a tiny chuckle as she ran her hands through her hair, scraping an itch on her scalp. “I’m guessing you saved him.” Ginny resumed sipping her tea. It was starting to get cold.

“Yeah, but he wouldn’t have done it if I wasn’t a bloody Veela.”

“Well, he’s fine now. So don’t kick yourself about it.” Hermione sighed into her palms and nodded. To appease her friend, the Head Girl changed the subject somewhat to discuss whatever else Luna had told her. Apparently, it wasn’t much, but Ginny was determined to hunt the Ravenclaw down the next day at breakfast for more information. The red-head also let Hermione know that she would be filling in Ron and Harry so they would quit worrying about their best friend. The Veela reluctantly agreed, but figured they would at least stop trying to visit her and endanger themselves…maybe.

After several hours of talking and eventually falling into comfortable conversations filled with laughter, Ginny bid farewell. Almost as soon as the portrait hole closed though, Hermione heard it open again and spied Anthony stepping into the common room. She then rushed to her room before she had the chance to see if he had begun doing something dangerous. Once her door slammed shut however, she realized she had left her wand on the table in the room she just escaped from. Letting out a slight growl in frustration, she strode over to her bed and threw herself onto it. It had long grown dark and the moon was shining through the window.

She got up again, restless without her wand securely in her hand and unable to reach it with Anthony in the next room. Might as well get ready for bed; the wand would be fine until tomorrow. The Veela pulled out her favorite pair of flannel pajamas from her dresser and snuggled under the maroon covers once they were on.

Sleep evaded her and she tossed and turned. That damned wand! She quickly realized the absence of the stick was causing withdrawal-like symptoms as she scratched at her waist, trying to reach an itch seemingly beneath her skin. It didn’t go away, so she tried to ignore it, only to have the strange sensation travel southward. She rubbed at her pelvis now, her hand travelling lower and lower until her fingers inched under her underwear and skimmed her nub. Her hips jerked at the sudden pleasantness that resulted and a soft sigh escaped her lips.

She continued gliding her fingers over the increasingly slick parts, her breath becoming quick pants. She slid the top of her pajamas up to reach for her breast with her unoccupied hand and heightened her pleasure as she lightly pinched her nipples. The castle’s drafty air brought them to hard peaks and she brought the hand to her mouth to wet it before returning it to her chest once more, shivering in pleasure at the wetness.

Her hips were bucking frantically as her orgasm drew near. Then she slid a finger inside herself, knowing exactly where to probe to reach that special place that would send her over the edge. She felt it. She felt herself come closer and closer, crying out in passion and pleasure.

She continued to touch herself for the next hour, desperately seeking release….but it never came. Instead, her pleasure continued to mount to the point of extreme frustration. She eventually withdrew her hands, despite her body craving more. She was determined now to calm herself down.

This too seemed a problem. When the pleasant shivers that traveled from her spine to her most private of areas continued halfway through the night, she attempted to stand and pace the room. As soon as she climbed out of bed however, her knees buckled as a rather strong shudder of pleasure wracked her body. She collapsed next to her bed and elicited a powerful moan as her breasts slid along the sheets on her way down. The position was uncomfortable, so despite the desperate urge to resume touching herself, Hermione attempted once more to right herself. Once more, when she made to turn onto her hands and knees to stand, another shudder travelled through her, grounding her again.

Surely her orgasm was close, wasn’t it? From her position on the floor, Hermione tried again to make herself come, quickly returning her hand into her knickers and plunging her fingers into her dripping channel rapidly, rubbing her clit with every stroke. She cried out and writhed on the floor, but her orgasm would not come. After hours passed and the sun began to rise in the sky, Hermione was sobbing from the endless pleasure.

Something was clearly terribly wrong. Her throat was so raw from her cries of ecstasy that she found she couldn’t even call out for help. Inheritance allure be damned! Hermione pleaded for Anthony to hear her, even in her rather compromising position. But no one came to her rescue.

The sweet torture resumed until she was sure she would black out. Then, as if an angel had finally heard her pleas, her bedroom door opened. Her torture-hazed mind was unable to register who it was, but she felt her savior magically raise her from the floor, her cramped and exhausted hands hanging at her sides. She emitted soft whimpers as she was floated away to who knew where.

They entered a room after several minutes that felt like days passed and it was like stepping into heaven. Her amortentia attacked her senses and the Veela writhed again in her suspended state, hands searching the air for her mate; she knew he was close. Her movements must have queued her savior to release the charm on her, because the Head Girl gently dropped to the floor and was allowed to see him several feet away, writhing in pain on a hospital bed.

Without even realizing how quickly she had moved, she was on top of him, kissing him fervently and grinding her hips into his. He moaned into her mouth and she felt his arousal nudge into her heat. She quickly tore his shirt open to trail kisses farther south. After she relieved him of his trousers and found him sufficiently hard, she engulfed him and enthusiastically brought him to climax.

The Veela hummed in delight as her mate snatched her up by the waist and had his way with her in return. She too came violently, finally achieving the release she had been denied all night.

She was asleep almost immediately afterwards, but still felt Draco crawl up her side to wrap his arms around her as he too, drifted to sleep.

It was dark when Hermione woke. She glanced around, confused but feeling exceptionally refreshed. She lay alone on a hospital bed for a while, before she spotted Madame Pomfrey bustling about in her office. That was when the Gryffindor decided to find out how she got there. Had she had an accident?

“Madam Pomfrey?” The mediwitch jumped at the sudden sound in her office, before turning around to the source of the voice.

“Oh, Miss Granger! You’re awake. Lovely.”

“Yes, Can you tell me what happened, please? I don’t seem to remember.” At her question, Pomfrey frowned, unsure how to respond.

“You don’t, do you. Well, I’m afraid my experience with these types of situations is rather limited. According to what Minerva told me, she found you in your room in quite a state. She brought you here to meet with Mister Malfoy.” Hermione’s expression immediately soured.

“M-Malfoy? What? We didn’t….did we…?”

“Did you what dear?” The Gryffindor might have thought the mediwitch was mocking her, except she looked genuinely confused.

“Did we….have….you know…. _sex_?”

“Hmm, I suppose that depends on your definition of the word, dear. If you mean, did you engage in a form of sexual relations, then yes, you did. However, you did not formally claim your mate, if that was your main concern.” Hermione wasn’t sure whether to be happy or appalled. On the one hand, she hadn’t gotten knocked up with the next Malfoy heir, but on the other, she still did horrible dirty things with him. She felt sick, but at least she knew it wasn’t morning sickness.

“If it’s alright with you Madam Pomfrey, I’ll go back to my dorm now.”

“Of course, dear. You’re free to go. Just be careful not to encounter any other students on your way back.” Hermione nodded and made her way to the Head dorms.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi all, I’m so so sorry for the wait! I have no excuse   
> I would like to send a special thank you to Kabg01 who beta-ed this chapter. She’s been awesome and I can’t thank her enough!

Enchanted

Chapter 7

One week. That was how long she had lasted before her Veela instincts kicked in and overwhelmed her. Hermione sat on her bed as she pondered this undeniable and most unfortunate truth. That damn itch must have been a sign and she was determined not to experience it again.

“You should probably go back to having your chaperoned visits with Malfoy,” Luna hummed as she painted the Hermione’s toenails a bright shade of orange. Both Luna and Ginny sat in the Head Girl’s room, with the Head Girl herself, to give the poor creature some much needed company. They had showed up shortly after dinner so the group could discuss Hermione’s inheritance some more and any insight the Ravenclaw had on the subject.

Hermione sneered at the thought of another visit with the Slytherin.

“What if we came with you?” Ginny suggested from her spot perched on the edge of the bed where she struggled to paint her smallest toenail. The redhead was far too accepting of these news circumstances for Hermione’s taste. Perhaps it was a Pureblood thing?

“So you can witness Malfoy and me going at it? I don’t think so.”

“No, I mean, we could make sure McGonagall does the spell right. I can’t believe she got it wrong the first time.”

“I have a feeling she’s got some master plan in the works. Dumbledore’s portrait _is_ hanging in the office, do you think he’s said something?”

“Perhaps Dumbledore is just trying to help fate along. You _are_ fated to be with Draco.” Hermione fought the intense urge to gag at Luna’s suggestion. Honestly, had she even met Malfoy? He was horrid, even if he _had_ agreed to help Hermione to not go insane. Why had he decided to help anyway? Surely it wasn’t because he enjoyed snogging her after the first time she attacked him in the Entrance Hall. When she voiced her question to her companions, the other girls giggled for a moment, before stopping to stare at her in what looked to be disbelief. Hermione stared them down, determined to get an answer.

“Wait, do you really not know?” Ginny had paused in wrestling her own toes into submission. She received no response from the Head Girl, other than her continued glare. The redhead directed her confused gaze to the blonde in the room, hoping for some assistance in explaining the situation.

“I’m surprised you haven’t learned about how great an honor it is to be chosen as a Veela’s mate, with all that reading you do,” Luna told her, returning to Hermione’s toes. Hermione was speechless for a moment.

"An honor? We're practically drugged every time we see each other!"

"That's just the way it is," Ginny said.

"Hand me that book over there." Ginny stood, curling her toes upward as best she could to keep the polish from smudging, as she traversed the length of the room to retrieve the book Hermione had motioned to.

"Have you lost your wand?" Luna asked once Ginny had successfully made it back to the bed.

"Blast!" The thought to just _Accio_ the book over hadn't even crossed her mind, and of course her wand had been sitting right next to her.

"Language!" Hermione cried out reflexively.

"Oh, stuff it."

"What did you need the book for, Hermione?" Luna chimed in before Ginny could spew even more offensive words.

"McGonagall loaned it to me...." She paused, searching for an acceptable page. When none presented itself, she huffed. "What good is it?"

"May I?" Hermione nodded dejectedly and handed the book over to the Ravenclaw. She watched as the dreamy-eyed girl slowly skimmed its contents.

"Perhaps this is what she thought would help?" Hermione peeked over the girl's shoulder.

It didn't go into too much detail about Veela. Mainly a few brief historical accounts of Veela coming into their inheritances. It especially stressed the importance of consummating unions once a mate has been found. Out of the sixteen mentioned cases in the text, five Veela had lost their minds from either resisting the call or being forced away from their mate for too long after finding their mates but before consummating their partnership. Three Veela hadn't met their mates by the time the book was published, five had gone on to lead fulfilling, happy lives with their mates and children. The remaining three partnership were the least lucky. True, they had found their mates and consummated their unions, but the females didn't conceive in time. Eventually the couples died of either starvation or dehydration over the weeks their Veela instincts drove them to have sex while foregoing any other activity.

Hermione wondered if they even realized they were hungry at all. Were they just so lost in their passion that they died happy? For her sake, and grudgingly Malfoy's, she hoped she would be able to get pregnant before that happened. Despite constantly running into the face of danger for Harry, she really did value her life.

"So we'll come with you, yeah?" Her head shot up at Ginny question. "There's really no avoiding it. You wanna go crazy touching yourself again?" She shook her head no. A massive flush took over her face at the memory.

"Wonderful, I'd love to see firsthand how your allure affects your mate." Luna's words did nothing to help the Head Girl's anxiety.

"Tomorrow then. Go see McGonagall before breakfast. Want us to go with you for that too?" Ginny asked.

"No need."

"Alright, just let us know when your appointment is then."

The girls agreed to sleep over for the night, since curfew was approaching too quickly to make a run for their dorms. The two squatters transfigured some chairs and trinkets into cots and extra pillows and blankets before they changed into some spare night clothes Hermione loaned them. Of course, they didn't go to bed straight away, opting to raid Hermione’s closet to find something suitable for her to wear for the next meeting with Malfoy. At least, Ginny and Luna chose to do so. Hermione grumbled from her bed about her clothes being perfectly fine to meet the ferret. _He_ probably wouldn't put any extra effort in their impending meet up.

After lunch the following day, Hermione sat in the headmistress's office once again. The other three women sat at McGonagall's desk, one writing something or other, while the other two giggled, whispered and glanced Hermione's way every now and then.

Lunch had ended and McGonagall supposedly informed Malfoy of their appointment via owl that morning. Ginny watched him from across the Hall and had claimed that his flush was visible from that great distance. Hermione wasn’t sure she believed the Gryffindor.

The grandfather clock struck one-thirty, their scheduled time, and Hermione wrung the edge of her skirt in her fists. The fabric was shorter than her uniform, since her two companions had forced her into a combination of pieces she would not normally choose for herself. Ginny had claimed ‘if he wasn’t already fated to be your mate, he’s gonna wish he was.’ Hermione felt a bit like a slut. Her blouse was too tight and low cut, thanks to the buttons the fiery redhead had plucked off to keep the Veela from covering herself back up. Apparently, none of her shoes were acceptable, so Ginny had charmed a pair of her own to fit Hermione and now she wore 5-inch Slytherin green pumps. Her skirt, which was a soft flowy silk material, had also been charmed by the underclassmen to match her shoes. Her blouse needed no magic, already matching the silver of her hair.

Hermione wasn’t sure what her supposed ‘friends’ were thinking, dressing her up like a trollop, when the point of this meeting was to survive it without trying to shag the blond Slytherin. She was sure as soon as he saw her, he’d think she _wanted_ to shag him.

A knock sounded on the door and Hermione turned, panicked towards Ginny and Luna. The former gave her a smiley thumbs-up before McGonagall called for the visitor to enter. It was Malfoy, of course. Who else had she hoped for? He pushed the door, but didn’t enter right away. She wondered what was keeping him, not that she wanted to see him sooner, but then he addressed the headmistress.

“What’re _they_ doing here?”

“Mister Malfoy, thank you for coming. Miss Weasley and Miss Lovegood are here to assist with the maintenance of the barrier that will keep you and Miss Granger separated.” He still made no move to enter. “Or would you prefer there be no barrier?” She continued with the beginnings of a knowing smirk on her lips. Without responding, Malfoy hustled into the room and closed the door.

Hermione noticed that he wore fresh-looking trousers and a tidy shirt. Certainly not something that had a half day of wear. His hair, too, appeared neatly combed. Not slicked back the way she had always hated as a child, but sort of a controlled chaos which looked quite nice. Not that she liked it. Of course not.

The Veela snapped out of her evaluation when she realized the blond was appraising her as well. She hadn’t realized at the time, but she stood when he had knocked at the door. She sat back down in her plush armchair to stave off his leering glare. He followed her example and claimed his spot in the seat on his side of the shimmering barrier.

“Granger.”

“Malfoy.”

“…you’re looking well.” She felt her eyebrows rise into her hairline. Could Malfoy be attempting to be civil? If that were the case, then it wouldn’t do to respond aggressively.

“And you.” The pair fell into silence and Hermione glanced around the room as she thought of something not-insulting to say.

“I…” She met his eyes once more. He looked terribly uncomfortable. “Your hair looks good.” She brought her right hand up to her chocolate locks. No. She had silver hair now. Of course he would like her hair now that it was so similar to his own.

“Thank you,” she said. She was determined to be agreeable unless he gave her reason not to be. “You’re…looking very smart this evening.”

“Second in my class.” Hermione’s nose scrunched up and she giggled a moment.

“That was so bad.” The corner of his mouth crept up in a wry smirk. So far this meeting was going pretty well. Neither of them wanted to jump each other’s bones, nor did they feel the urge to kill the other.

“So…” Draco began, searching for a topic to distract himself from the way Hermione’s newly-altered hair seemed to glow in the candlelight. Both students shuffled their feet in discomfort.

“So…” Hermione echoed. Her gaze shifted to the other three women in the room, two of whom were trying, and failing, not to stare.

“You haven’t been in classes.”

“No.”

“Longbottom’s nearly blown up the potion’s lab three times already.” Hermione groaned and brought a hand to her forehead in secondhand embarrassment for her poor friend. She suddenly felt very guilty for not being able to whisper potions advice during class, despite none of this really being her fault.

“Has he at least been doing well in Herbology?” She already knew he would be, he was a genius when it came to plants, but needed the reassurance from the blond in front of her. Thankfully, Herbology was another class the Gryffindors and Slytherins had together.

“I suppose so.” Draco saw Granger’s shoulders drop in relief, trying not to admit the full truth: that the chubby Gryffindor was besting everyone in class when it came to harvesting his own gillyweed.

After that topic of conversation, the pair fell into a rather polite, if not occassionally tense exchange over the next hour. The grandfather clock against the wall chimed, causing Ginny to jump up in surprise, having dozed off in her armchair. Apparently she had grown bored with the pair and hoped for a steamier encounter, despite the magical barrier she was there to make sure stayed put.

Hermione was surprisingly disappointed when time was up, but hid it behind a mask of exhaustion. Her Slytherin companion appeared equally fatigued, so he gave her a polite goodbye wave – which was more like a simple raise of his hand in her general direction – and made his way out the massive door.

“So…?” Ginny began once the trio had been walking back to the Head dorms for a few minutes.

“So what, Ginny?” Hermione wasn’t sure exactly what the redhead was getting at, but she knew the direction this conversation was going to go.

“Do you like him? Are you madly in love? Do you want to have his little Malfoy babies?” Hermione fought the urge to gag at the preposterous questions, though she knew her friend was probably joking.

“Absolutely not!”

“Are you sure?” Luna asked. “From the number of puddiwinkles in the room, one would think you both quite enjoyed each other’s company.”

“Look,” the veela said. “Yeah, we had a nice talk, but I am a far cry from agreeing to be intimate with him!”

“Boy!”

“Yes, I know you must be very disappointed, Gin, but-”

“No! Hide! A boy’s coming!” Hermione almost didn’t see the young Hufflepuff who was heading in their direction. She threw herself into a nearby classroom, slammed the door and heaved a great sigh. That could’ve been bad. She rested her forehead against the wood of the door and mentally thanked her friends for walking her to and from the Headmistress’s office. As Hermione waited for the all clear, she turned to see which room she had landed in. She didn’t have much of an opportunity though, as she immediately locked eyes with a Gryffindor third year who was standing well within her personal space.

“Hello there, I’m Augustus. Who might you be?” Hermione’s eyes grew as big as saucers as she looked past the sandy-haired boy and saw that she was entirely surrounded by a third year Arithmancy class. Gryffindor and Hufflepuff boys crowded around her with glazed expressions as their female classmates looked on in confusion.

Without no professor in sight – the class must not have begun yet – and before she could cause any harm, Hermione’s hands scrambled for the door handle, shouting for Ginny and Luna to open it from the other side. She finally thrust it open, just as the closest boys had started to grope her and the rest had called out for her to watch as they attempted dangerous stunts from the desks and rafters.

As she raced in the direction of the Head Girl’s dorm, she looked behind herself and saw that the crowd of boys was growing as she haphazardly rushed through the halls. Innocent passers-by fell under her spell and made chase. Ginny and Luna ran alongside her, unable to stop any of the pursuers on their own. Hermione would have shot the Gryffindor a death glare for looking like she was enjoying herself far too much, but she was too busy gasping for air.

Her legs burned with exertion and her too-tight blouse popped two more buttons from the strain of motion as she and her accomplices climbed the last staircase before getting to her landing. Halfway up though, Hermione felt a shudder beneath her and just barely scrambled to grasp the bannister. The staircase had moved and decided to stop against a solid wall. Did these bloody stairs hate her? She looked behind herself and saw that the passionate mob of schoolboys were still righting themselves after the move.

“Any ideas?” Hermione panted from her spot leaning on the bannister as she tried, and failed, to hold her blouse closed.

“Maybe….Maybe we can levitate each other to the landing?” Ginny said.

“No, that’ll take too long,” the Veela warily eyed the boys who were just beginning to tread back up the stairs, getting far too close. “The last time I was separated like that, Ron jumped and nearly killed himself!”

“ _Petrificus Totalus_!” The girls stood in shock as the mob climbing the stairs suddenly became as still as stone. Then, Ginny slowly turned to where the voice of the spell originated and her eyes landed on the dreamy blonde behind her.

“Dear Merlin, Luna. That was brilliant!” Hermione agreed with Ginny and made a mental note to use the spell if ever she found herself in a similar situation again.

 “It was nothing. I’m just sorry I hadn’t thought of it sooner. I could’ve saved us quite a bit of trouble.” Hermione, still in shock, began to laugh. It was a hearty, belly laugh that brought tears to her eyes. After a moment, her two friends joined her, allowing the absurdity of their situation to overwhelm them.

“That’s all well and good, Luna,” Hermione chuckled as she calmed down. “But how do we get to the landing?”

“I suppose levitating isn’t out of the question anymore. No one’s in danger of jumping to their deaths.” The veela nodded and pulled her wand out of her pocket, ready to swish and flick.

It took only a few minutes before the three girls were situated on the landing and eventually back at the Head Girl’s dorm. Ginny peeked her head into the common room first, to ensure Anthony wasn’t inside before waving the others inside, really he was hardly ever in his rooms. Hermione took advantage of the floo to let McGonagall know that half the school’s male population could be found petrified on the staircase to the top floor, if they hadn’t already been discovered. Her former Head of House had to fight a grin that threatened to overcome her disappointment in the girls for resorting to magic to so easily solve their problems. But, then again, what else was magic for?

Although Ginny and Luna had been excused from the rest of their classes for the day, Luna claimed that she wanted to attend that night’s Astronomy class. Apparently some special comet was aligning with some special star, which wouldn’t be happening again for another twelve thousand and thirty-two years, and she didn’t want to wait around for the next time. Hermione wasn’t about to point out that she would be long gone by then, but the Ravenclaw had been so helpful that day, so she kept her mouth shut.

The veela waved her friends off and returned to her room, relishing in the comfort of her bed. She lay on top of the covers, just breathing and thinking over the course of the day’s events. All in all, it had gone very well. She managed a cordial conversation with a boy she never thought would give her the time of day, not that she ever wanted it.

No, Draco Malfoy hadn’t occupied much of her thoughts until very recently. Sure, he had always been a prat, making fun of her hair, or her teeth, or her less-than-pure blood status. But oh how the tables had turned. OK, so she still wasn’t a pureblood, but it looked like, according to wizarding standards, she was something a bit better. She was sought after. In fact, after she put some thought into it, if she hadn’t discovered Draco was her mate so soon after coming into her inheritance, there would likely be a never-ending line of suitors begging for her hand. All because she had a bit more magic in her blood than the average witch.

With those esteem-boosting thoughts in her head, she situated herself on her bed and grabbed the book that lay on her bedside table. She spent the rest of the day continuing her research on Veelas and what she might expect in the coming months, well, years. This was the rest of her life after all.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey all! It’s been a while, I know. I’m sorry! But here’s Chapter 8! Woo hoo!  
> Once again, I’d like to give much love to my beta Kabg01. She’s awesome and keeps me on track and makes sure I don’t fall in too many writing funks.

Enchanted 

Chapter 8

 

Draco woke in his bed, as if nothing odd had happened the previous day and with no physical traces of his mysterious rash. It took him a few moments of staring at the canopy of his bed to fully remember all that had transpired and what he and Granger had done to, with, each other. Thankfully he was alone in his dorm room, so none of his room mates were present to see his face flush furiously. Malfoys do not blush.

 

After he had had some time to collect his thoughts, he managed to climb out of his covers, discovering that he still wore the clothes he had arrived at the hospital wing in. They were rumpled and he scowled at the slight odor that his sweat had caused. He gathered his toiletries and headed for the showers, without a thought of what time of day it even was.

 

He would later find out that he had been sleeping almost twelve hours and it was only shortly after four in the morning when he had awoken. Unfortunately, he had learned this information when he got to the shower only to find Zabini already occupying a stall with a particularly rambunctious Ravenclaw.

 

"Oi! Do you have to do that where I can see it?" Draco cried out as soon as he spotted, quite by accident, Blaise's rear end. "At least draw the curtain!" Zabini barely spared him a glance as he finished what he was doing and smacked the ebony-haired girl's behind when she hurried out of the stall. 

 

"Excuse me for living. I didn't think anyone would be here at four in the morning." The dark-skinned Italian had no shame as he leaned against the stall, sans clothing.

 

"Nor did I." Draco started the water in a corner stall and waited for it to warm up before he disrobed and stepped in.

 

"How's Granger?" Draco heard the question called over the sound of the water.

 

"How would I know."

 

"Didn't you see her? Chang said she saw her attack you in the hospital wing yesterday." Chang? Oh, that Ravenclaw girl. Must've been his latest conquest.

 

"So what if I did?"

 

"No reason. Can't a guy just ask how his best friend's doing? Especially when that friend is the resident Veela's new mate?"

 

Draco muffled a groan as best he could. He had hoped the school population wouldn't catch on to the truth so quickly. This was going to make things difficult, surely the Dark Lord knew by now too.

 

The shower curtain was thrown open. Draco jumped at the sudden gust of cold air that hit his back. 

 

"Don't worry, I don't think anyone _important_ knows yet." Zabini stood in the same spot the shower curtain had previously occupied, still naked. Draco scowled at the man.

 

" _Really_?" 

 

"Yeah, I only heard it from Cho because she happened to be seeing Pomfrey for some...potions she needed." 

 

"Not _that_." 

 

"What?" Draco motioned to the Italian's lower extremities. Blaise only grinned back. "What? I'm confident in my body. Nothing to be ashamed of." 

 

"Well, it's nothing I want to see at four in the bloody morning." Draco pulled the curtain closed again, effectively shutting out his companion. 

 

"So, how's Granger in bed?" Blaise called over the noise of the water hitting the walls and shower curtain. Draco refused to respond to the ridiculous question. It wasn't any of his business anyway. Not to mention that Draco hadn't even properly shagged the Gryffindor...yet. 

 

"What sort of potions was Chang getting?" Draco called out, desperate for a change of subject. 

 

"Oh, you know. This and that." 

 

"No, I don't know." 

 

"Don't worry about it." 

 

"Then don't worry about Granger." 

 

"I wasn't worried." 

 

"Good." 

 

"Good." 

 

"Fine." Draco was getting irritated. Sufficiently cleaned, he turned off the taps, grabbed the towel he had thrown over the railing of the curtain and wrapped it around his waist. Blaise was smirking in the same place when the blond threw open the curtain. 

 

"I was simply inquiring about the welfare of Hogwarts’s resident beast.”

 

“She’s not a beast.” Draco defended, offended by the suggestion that he was interested in bestiality. Besides, Veela were classified as Beings anyway.

 

“Well, she’s not a mudblood anymore.”

 

“No, I suppose she’s not.”

 

“So, then…if she’s not a beast, what is she?”

 

“Nothing!” Draco groaned in frustration. Damn it! He had just wanted to take a shower and clear his head. “She just… _is._ ”

 

That seemed to pacify the other Slytherin, so Draco found himself free to finish his bathroom activities and dress in peace. Blaise watched him the entire time, making Draco mildly uncomfortable, but the Italian had always been a bit peculiar, so he shrugged it off.

 

“What have Mummy and Daddy dearest said about it?” Draco froze on his way out the door and whipped back around. That damned Italian was still in the nude. Honestly, did he even bring clothes with him?

 

“Don’t worry about it.” Draco attempted to shut down the potential conversation, not looking forward to what Blaise might weasel out of him.

 

“You haven’t told them, have you?” That blasted smirk, so much like Draco’s own, crept up on the Italian’s face. It must be an acquired trait all Slytherins learned, since Draco couldn’t recall his friend having donned the expression before attending Hogwarts. Apparently Draco took too long considering this, and Blaise began to chuckle.

 

“Just….don’t worry about it.”

 

“I’d figure out a way to break the news to them soon if I were you, or else some _necks_ might be breaking instead. We all know the Dark Lord doesn’t like information being kept from him.”

 

If Blaise had actually been a Death eater, Draco would be seriously concerned about him leaking the information to the wrong people. Fortunately, he was not and likely not looking to join the mad man. Blaise just enjoyed knowing things. It came in handy when blackmailing others to do his bidding.

 

Draco hesitated a moment and nodded, both in agreement and goodbye.

 

When he arrived back in his dorm room and got his school bag ready for classes, the hour was still ungodly early, so he grabbed some parchment, a quill, and an inkpot, and headed to the common room to begin his letter to his parents.

 

_Mother-_

 

Should he address it to his mother? Or perhaps his father? Both? His mother had been a nervous wreck ever since the Dark Lord had taken up residence at Malfoy Manor, so she probably didn’t need the added stress of his predicament. His father, on the other hand, may try to spin the situation to benefit his Lord. That might not be in Draco’s best interest. If he was ordered to take advantage of Granger, things could get messy and Draco wasn’t sure he’d come out of this war alive.

 

…But what if his mother was happy? Pansy had been right; it _was_ a great honor to become a Veela’s mate. So, maybe she could help him…

 

Somewhat satisfied with his decision, Draco continued with his letter.

 

_Mother,_

_I hope you are well._

_My lessons have been going as expected and I am, once again, among the top in my year-_

 

How to tell her? The Dark Lord was undoubtedly intercepting owls.

Owls….hm….

 

_As you know, the filthy school owls probably carry disease and, after Baron died over the summer, I find myself in need of a dependable bird. There will be a Hogsmeade trip this weekend and I should like it very much if you met me to find one. As I am not a head of the household, I am not able to withdraw enough galleons from Gringotts to purchase an owl of high enough caliber and will need you there. Please let me know what time I should expect you. These flea bitten fowls may be the death of me._

_Your son,_

_Draco_

 

Yes, that may be enough to get her out of the house long enough to explain his situation. For once the rules at Gringotts may work in his favor by requiring his mother or father be present for withdrawals of large sums of money.

 

Before heading to the Great Hall for an extra early breakfast, he first detoured to the owlry where he called one of the dusty – really they _were_ disgusting – owls from a perch and sent it on its way with his letter. Hopefully his mother would be allowed to leave the manor.

 

Miraculously, the rest of Draco’s Thursday passed uneventfully. He sat at breakfast with Blaise, who gave no indication that they had seen each other earlier that morning, and even managed to get a head start on his latest Defense essay.

 

His mother’s response arrived the following morning at breakfast.

_Draco,_

_It brightened my day to hear from you._

_Please join me for tea at Madam Puddifoot’s at 1pm this Saturday. I’ve reserved a private room._

_Much love,_

_Your Mother_

 

Draco was about to pack up his things and make his way to his first class of the day, before another owl (one of those bloody school birds) dropped another letter at his plate.

 

_Mr. Malfoy,_

_Please meet me in my office today during your lunch period for another appointment._

_Minerva McGonagall_

_Headmistress_

 

Another appointment? When had he scheduled an appointment with the Headmistress? Last Draco could remember going to her was…to join the Order.

 

Bloody Hell.

 

Did the Order have an assignment for him? Did they want him to kill someone like the Dark Lord did? No. They wouldn’t make him do that….would they? Of course not.

 

These thoughts plagued him the rest of the morning, forcing him to change his clothes just before his meeting. He would never admit that the anxiety in the impending meeting had caused him to sweat more than usual.

 

Once he stepped into the office however, the scene before him was a very different one than what he expected. Weaslette and her Ravenclaw friend were sitting at McGonagall’s desk with stupid grins on their faces.

 

“What’re _they_ doing here?”

 

"Mister Malfoy, thank you for coming. Miss Weasley and Miss Lovegood are here to assist with the maintenance of the barrier that will keep you and Miss Granger separated." Oh… of course. _That’s_ the appointment she meant.  "Or would you prefer there be no barrier?" He practically slammed the heavy door shut behind himself and spotted Granger in the same corner of the room she sat in the first time. The magical barrier was visible in all its shimmering glory, with the Gryffindor standing behind it, not in her school uniform. For once, Draco was able to see some soft curves, accentuated by a low cut blouse and almost scandalously short skirt.

 

A green one. Very nice.

 

Wait, no. Not nice. This was Granger. Her taste in clothing was atrocious….except he couldn’t help but admire the way the bit of static caused the flowy material to cling to her thighs.

 

That blasted Headmistress better not have messed up the barrier again. Before he could think too much about it, he joined Granger at their meeting spot and sat down.

 

To his great surprise, the pair managed a mostly civil conversation. Draco couldn’t deny that having a conversation partner that shared his affinity for books was a breath of fresh air, even if the companion in question was the girl he had been raised to detest his entire life. By the end of their hour together, he found that he had to fight a small smile that threatened to crack his usual stony façade. It wouldn’t do to appear too happy with their encounter; he had a reputation to uphold.

 

Eventually, he bid the Veela and Headmistress farewell and went on his way to class. He had sacrificed his lunch for the meeting and was hoping Pansy had grabbed a sandwich from the Great Hall for him.

 

She hadn’t, as he was annoyed to find out upon arriving at History of Magic. Even if she had, she wouldn’t have been able to give it to him given that she was deep asleep at the back of the classroom. As all students had learned by now, the raven-haired Slytherin was positioned at her desk in such a way that Professor Binns wouldn’t be able to tell that her eyes were closed with no hope of opening until the period was over.

 

The next morning saw Draco rising at the break of dawn. There had been no waking, since there had been no sleeping. The stress of his impending conversation with his mother in Hogsmeade kept his mind occupied, banishing any possibility of a restful night.

 

“Draco, you alright? You look like you got in a fight with another hippogriff,” Blaise joked from across the table. Pansy glared at the Italian and turned to the blond.

 

“You _didn’t_ , did you?” Honestly, how many Hippogriffs did Pansy think he came in contact with? He had dressed and gone through his morning routine in a daze though, so he _might_ look awful for once.

 

“No.” The other Slytherins went back to their breakfasts without questioning further.

 

“Really Draco,” Pansy spoke in a hushed whisper so the others wouldn’t overhear. “You look a mess. What’s wrong?”

 

“I’m meeting my mother later.”

 

“What? You’re going home?”

 

“No, no. She’s being allowed out I suppose. I wrote that I needed a new owl.”

 

“Oh, and I suppose that’s not the real reason you’re going to speak to her then.”

 

“No.”

 

“It’s about Granger?” Draco didn’t need to respond. His eyes closed in confirmation and Pansy nodded before turning back to her toast. “I’m sure it’ll be fine. She’ll probably be happy.”

 

“Yea, I know. But this whole bloody mess is going to cause so many problems.”

 

“Sure, but Dumbledore said he’d help. The old coot better keep his word or we’ll have to do something crazy.”

 

“Crazy or stupid?”

 

“Please, Draco. We’re Slytherins. We’re not stupid.” Although he wasn’t looking at her, he could practically _hear_ her rolling her eyes at him and a smirk played on his lips.

 

She agreed to walk to the nearby village when all of-age students began the trek. It was a pleasantly cool day for early October and heavy cloaks weren’t necessary. Pansy looped her arm around Draco’s and the pair walked in mostly companionable silence, save for the occasional judgmental comment about passing students. They broke apart when they reached Madam Puddifoot’s and Draco promised to meet her in front of the Hog’s Head before going back to the castle.

 

The private room was painfully pink. However, it was the most up-scale establishment in Hogsmeade and Narcissa Malfoy would not stoop to venture into the Three Broomsticks for a pint with her son. Draco wouldn’t want to subject her to that anyway. No doubt they would be the subject of several icy glares and, as indifferent as Draco may appear to be to the rest of the world, he truly loved his mother.

 

“Draco,” the witch said warmly when she arrived and spotted her son. He rose from his seat, as all good pureblooded young men had been trained to when a respectable woman approached.

 

“Mother.” She kissed his cheeks and sat opposite him, picking up a cup of tea that had magically appeared before her. “Thank you for joining me today.”

 

“Of course, Draco. What is it you needed to talk about? Or did you really only need a new owl?” Draco didn’t miss the grin she gave him before she took a sip of her tea. She was a Slytherin after all; she had been able to read between the lines of his letter.

 

“No, well, yes, I _do_ need an owl, but that’s not why I called you here.”

 

Narcissa stayed silent, waiting for him to continue. The picture of patience.

 

“You see, there’s…” How had he managed to stay up all night and worrying all morning and still not come up with a tactful way to phrase what he needed to say? “…a girl.”

 

“A girl?”

 

“Yes.”

 

“Pansy?”

 

“No, well, she _is_ a girl, but not the girl I’m talking about.” When had he lost his composure? When had the great Draco Malfoy lost the ability to carry a conversation? Especially with his own mother? She was supposed to be one of the only people he could confide in! Why was this so bloody hard? He just needed to come out with it. No more rambling.

 

“Granger’saveelaandI’mhermate.” There. He did it.

 

“Come again?” He hesitated as he watched his mother’s face for any sign she had understood what he said. Of course, she kept a perfect poker face. He took a deep, calming breath.

 

“Granger. As in, Hermione Granger? She’s a Veela and, it would appear that….I’m her mate.” Narcissa’s eyes widened a bit, but not enough that anyone who wasn’t a Malfoy would notice.

 

“You’ve been chosen as a Veela’s mate?” A small smile began on her lips and she leaned in to the conversation.

 

“Well, I wouldn’t exactly say ‘chosen’. But, yes.”

 

“Draco!” His mother was positively beaming at him now. “Do you know what this means?”

 

“That….I’m a Veela’s mate?” What else could it mean? Oh no, his mother wasn’t hoping to take advantage of the predicament too was she? This plan was bad. Very bad. Draco should never have told his mother. He should’ve just kept his mouth shut and hoped Granger moved away to live as a hermit or something. Far away from him.

 

Of course, sense told him that would be impossible, considering what happened the last time they stayed away from each other too long.

 

“Draco, you’ve been chosen!”

 

“Yea, like bloody Potter.”

 

“No, not like the boy. Draco,” she took his hand in hers, forgetting her tea. “As a Veela’s mate, you will have some protection. Veela have magic unlike the average witch or wizard. She can help you stay safe!”

 

“But…what about you? And father?” He added his father to the question almost as an afterthought.

 

“You’re what’s most important, Draco. All we want is for you to be safe and as happy as possible. This Veela can give you that. She can protect you and happiness is inevitable, since you’ve been chosen by fate. Besides, if we all get through this horrid war, your status will exceed your father’s and mine.”

 

“But…” His mother was taking this far too well. Sure Draco had hoped she wouldn’t disown him, but by the sound of it, she was practically pushing him into a relationship. “…It’s _Granger_.”

 

“Granger?” The blonde woman leaned back a bit, confused by his declaration.

 

“Hermione Granger. The mudblood.” Narcissa frowned a bit.

 

“Well, she’s clearly not a mudblood, is she. Forgive me, _muggle-born_.” As if in thought, his mother quirked her head before continuing. “You might want to become a bit more politically correct, dear. If she grew up thinking she was muggle-born, she likely won’t appreciate her mate calling her that.” Draco thought back on the many times he called her a mudblood and grimaced.

 

Narcissa leaned back into her chair fully now and resumed with her tea, a bright smile overtaking her face. Draco stared openly at her, unsure how this conversation had gone so….well. He wasn’t sure it he should be happy or upset or angry? He settled on happy with just a touch of confused, since it was the easiest to accept. After all, if his mother was happy, then he should be too.

 

“Was there something else, Draco?” Narcissa asked after Draco had been staring at her for a good five minutes.

 

“What? Oh, no. Just that...and an owl.”

 

“Ah, yes, of course. Let’s be on our way then, shall we? We should get there early to make sure to get our pick of the best stock.” Dabbing the corners of her mouth with a frilly napkin, the elegant woman rose from her chair and the pair made their way out of Madam Puddifoot’s and to the local owl shop. It wasn’t as well stocked as Eeylops, but Draco was still able to find an impressive long-eared owl, which Narcissa had prepared ahead of time to pay for, brandishing the necessary coins before the shopkeeper even asked. As soon as the pair stepped out of the shop, Draco opened the cage and ordered the bird to go to Hogwarts, where it would be staying during the school year.

 

It was still early in the day and Draco knew his mother likely wasn’t permitted to leave the manor often, so he allowed her to lead him to a side street where a new restaurant had opened several months ago. It wasn’t to the caliber he was used to, but it was better than a pub and not nearly as pink as Madam Puddifoot’s. They stayed there for most of the afternoon, making small talk and generally enjoying each other’s company. Unfortunately, the sky was beginning to grow dark and Draco needed to meet Pansy to go back to school.

 

“Take care of yourself, Draco,” Narcissa whispered as she ferociously hugged him goodbye.

 

“I will. You do the same. I’ll try to think of another reason to get you away from him.” Draco whispered back, not needing to mention who the ‘him’ was that he was referring to. He felt her nod and they pulled away from each other. Had she not been a Slytherin, Draco was sure she would have had tears in her eyes. But she was, and she didn’t. Without taking so much as a step away, his mother apparated with a loud crack that made his ears ring for a moment.

 

Composing himself, Draco adjusted his light jacket, which had become slightly rumpled during their hug, before turning to meet Pansy, who had been waiting for him for the past hour and a half, not that she would tell him that.


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hey look! I did a thing!  
> I know I know I’m SOOOOOOO late with this update. School kicks my ass and I have a ton of plot bunnies bouncing around in my head that it’s hard to focus on one story at a time.  
> Compliments to my wonderful beta! Kabg01  
> Anyway…it’s here now. Enjoy!

Enchanted

Chapter 9

 

Hermione heard the knock on the portrait door late Monday evening. Dinner had already been served to the rest of the school and she had her own plate of food resting on the table across from where she sat on the overstuffed couch in the Head common room. Placing her book down next to the half-eaten dinner, she walked over to the entrance, expecting to see either Ginny or Luna (or both) on the other side. And, well, she was partially correct. Ginny stood, with her hand poised to knock once more, in front of Hermione once the portrait of some old forgotten witch had swung open. However, what Hermione had not expected to see were the two best friends whom she had been avoiding like the plague for the past month.

“Harry! Ron!” Hermione’s eyes widened in panic and she made to slam the portrait shut again before any damage could be done. Ginny quickly stuck her foot into the gap though, preventing this. “Ginny! What’re you doing?”

“Hermione, it’s fine, really.” Hermione’s panic did not subside, but she glanced at the two boys who had bright smiles on their faces and seemed to be unaffected by her allure for the most part. She calmed a bit.

“H-how?”

“Earplugs.” Ginny told her matter-of-factly. “Honestly, for the ‘brightest witch of your age,’ you sure can be pretty thick sometimes. I think Luna might be smarter than you. It was her idea.”

"Well, she _is_ a Ravenclaw," Hermione muttered under her breath as she motioned for the small group to come inside.

"Yea, whatever." Ginny was inspecting Hermione's meal as Ron not-so-subtly began picking his favorite parts out and popping them into his mouth as the Veela watched, used to him eating anything in sight. She couldn't find it in her to be upset with him; this was the first time she had seen her best friends in weeks.

"Have you been alright up here by yourself, Hermione?" She turned towards Harry, who was attempting to make himself comfortable on her couch. He seemed to be having a hard time with it if his flushed face and fidgety hands were any indication.

"Yeah, it hasn't been so bad. I've got-" Hermione cut herself off before she said anything more. His wide-eyed, innocent expression made it painfully obvious that Harry had no idea what she was saying.

Ear plugs.

Grabbing a quill and some parchment, the Head Girl opted to write down her responses going forward.

_Ginny and Luna have been keeping me company. I'm so glad you're here. I've missed you both, even Ron's horrid eating habits._

The pair both peered over the parchment, glanced at Ron, and snickered to themselves. He was none the wiser as he had properly sat down by this point and fully dug into Hermione's dinner with gusto. Still, she couldn't find it in her to be upset; she almost laughed. Ginny, however stared at Ron as if he had presented her with an armful of flobberworms.

"So, what's this I hear about Malfoy?" Harry tried to whisper after several minutes of speaking/writing to each other.

_Oh, Merlin! I don't know what to do about him. What did Ginny tell you?_

"That you're a Veela and you'll be 'stuck with him for the rest of your life'" Hermione frowned at the morbid phrase, but couldn't deny its accuracy. She really would be stuck with the Slytherin for the rest of her life, however long that may be. With any luck, maybe she would fall to Voldemort or one of his cronies. It certainly seemed like a possibility with the way the Death Eaters had been targeting muggleborns. But...she wasn't a muggleborn, was she.

_Yea, that's pretty much the gist of it. The longer story is that, apparently, I’m a Veela and we can have mates and Malfoy happens to be mine. I don't know why. Nobody seems to know how it works. But he is._

"If nobody knows how it works, how did you know?"

_It was...sort of like...this is going to sound horrible, but... it was sort of like love at first sight, I guess? Except, I really had no idea what was going on and before I knew it we were being forcibly removed from each other._

She stopped writing for a moment to recollect what had happened that fateful morning on her birthday. Since some time had passed, she was beginning to remember little pieces of what she did and felt the moment she basically assaulted Malfoy. Draco. She had to get used to thinking of him by his first name if there was any way she was going to get through this.

Hermione remembered smelling the same aroma as her amortentia when she had entered the Entrance Hall. In fact, now that she thought about it, she had been smelling it since she had arrived at Hogwarts for the beginning of term. Of course, she hadn't known she was a Veela yet, so she had just assumed someone was wearing an especially pungent cologne. But...when she saw Malfoy the morning she turned eighteen, it was if he was the only person in the room. His scent had overwhelmed her and she couldn’t even think. She hardly remembered even seeing his face before she was on top of him and being snogged better than she ever thought possible. His lips were just…so soft, and when his hands moved to her waist, it was like-

"Hey." Hermione's head snapped up to the source of the voice. Harry looked at her quizzically. "You okay? You kinda drifted away for a minute." Hermione nodded and smiled. Yes, she was fine. Or at least, she would be.

"You sure? Are you too hot? Your face is all red," Ron called far too loudly through a mouthful of roast chicken. The Veela touched a hand to her cheek and, yes, it was warm. Had she been blushing the entire time she was remembering her time with Malfoy? The realization only made her blush grow and she was positive she resembled a tomato.

 _‘Oh you know, it’s just a Veela thing’_ was the best Hermione could come up with. Hopefully the boys wouldn’t think too much of it and question her further. They didn’t and she was grateful.

 _Have you heard anything about the Horcruxes?_ she wrote, grasping at the first chance to change the subject.

“Yeah!” Harry said, far too loudly for close quarters. “Professor Mcgonagall called me in the other day. Looks like Moody and Kingsley tracked down some locket in a cave. She told me where, but I forgot. Anyway, they used the Basalisk fangs I told them about. Thanks for that idea by the way. You have the best ideas. You’re so smart, Hermione.” Hermione blushed a little at Harry’s praise, but soon took on an expression of concern as her best friend began to loom closer on the couch.

“Are you alright?” she asked, glancing at her two red-haired friends for assistance. Unfortunately, they had gotten into a heated argument about whether or not Ron should get back together with Lavender Brown.

“I’m great, Hermione. Thanks for asking. You’re so thoughtful, and so smart.” He shifted closer. “You always have the best ideas.” The Head Girl had backed away as far as the couch would allow, forcing her to lean back against the arm rest.

“Harry, I think it’s time you went back to Gryffindor Tower,” she told him, gently pushing at his shoulder to avoid their faces colliding in what Hermione suspected was an attempted kiss.

“How could I leave now?” He asked, gently wrapping her hand in his own. There was an almost visible fog over the Chosen One’s bright green eyes and Hermione cursed herself for believing letting the boys into her dorm was a good idea.

“Ginny!” The red-haired witch didn’t hear the plea for help over her near-screaming match with her brother.

“You know, Hermione, I think Rita Skeeter might’ve been on to something. I think we would make a pretty good couple.”

“Harry, you don’t mean that! You’re like my brother!” She turned her head as far to the side as it could physically go and closed her eyes in mortification as the wizard nuzzled into her cheek.

“But we can be so much more than-“

“Woah there!” Ginny laughed as she smashed a fallen plug back into Harry’s ear. Immediately, his eyes cleared and widened, and furious blush overtook his face.

“Hermione! I’m so sorry! I-I didn’t know! I-” He stuttered as he jumped away from her as if he had been burned. With a great sigh of relief, she smiled back at him.

“It’s alright Harry. I’m glad the earplugs work at least. Just make sure you keep them in next time, yeah?”

“Yeah, yeah. Of course.” The green-eyed wizard dropped his gaze in embarrassment and brought a hand to the back of his neck, fidgeting. “I think I better be going anyway. I’m really sorry.”

 

“Don’t be. It’s fine.” Hermione knew he didn’t have anything pressing to get back to, but let the boy retreat after their almost-kiss.

Hermione shut the door behind her friends, breathing a sigh of relief once they had finally gone. It was getting late and she didn’t want to be around when Anthony got back, so she gathered up her things and retreated to her own room. As much as she promoted elf rights, she had to admit that having her bed made and clothes put away for her every day was a blessing. She dropped her school things onto her desk and fell on her bed with a small huff.

Her next meeting with Draco would take place the following day and Hermione wasn’t sure whether or not she was looking forward to it. Sure, their last meeting turned out to be almost pleasant, but…well, he was _Draco Malfoy_. That meant something!

…right?

Of course it did. He was an absolute terror since first year and he was a DEATH EATER! Big red flag! But she would be stuck with him for the rest of her life regardless. Maybe she should address his Death Eater-ism when she next saw him. Who knew? Maybe something could be done about it. Like…they could run away until the war was over.

Wait. No. That would mean they’d have to run away _together_. The implications there were too much for the Veela. Besides, if they were alone together for any span of time she was likely to get herself up the duff. No. Out of the question. Determined to try not to worry too much about the situation, Hermione picked up one of the assignments that Professor McGonagall had sent her and attempted to do some more of her homework.

The following day, Hermione spent her morning taking care of the number of class assignments she had been given. Completing her last year as an independent study was certainly liberating, since she was essentially free to study at her own pace without being ridiculed by her peers for being too far ahead in her classes. Normally, she would be about eight chapters ahead of her classmates, but with her new increased pace, Hermione had left her entire year in the dust. With some luck, she might even be allowed to take her NEWTs early!

Eventually though, lunchtime arrived and the young witch-Veela had to leave for McGonagall’s office. It was always risky business venturing out into the halls, but the Headmistress chose this time to meet exactly because a majority of the student population would be in the Great Hall. Unlike some times in the past, she even arrived without encountering the occasional straggler.

“Hello Professor,” she greeted without much preamble.

“Miss Granger, right on time. Please have a seat.” Hermione did as she was asked and watched carefully as the wizened witch erected the essential barrier. Ginny and Luna had opted to stay in the Great Hall for this meeting, leaving Hermione to fend for herself in hoping that everything went according to plan. Their absence gave her the freedom to wear her own comfortably fitting clothes this time, so she wore her typical jumper and skirt. She did, however fashion her newly tamed curls into an elegant twist.

Just as both witches concurred that the barrier was placed efficiently, there was a knock at the door. Right on time.

“Come in,” McGonagall called to the visitor. It was Malfoy-Draco, of course. He looked around the room, likely for traces of the two other witches who had joined their last meeting, before setting his bag down and taking his usual seat.

“Granger.”

“Malfoy.”

“We meet again.”

“So we do.” The pair sat in awkward silence for a bit, unsure at first how to further the conversation. “How was your lunch?”

“I haven’t eaten,” Draco told her.

“What do you mean? It’s lunch time.”

“Yes, and I’m here talking to you.” That Malfoy had sacrificed his lunch to be with her never occurred to Hermione. She was shocked and surprisingly flattered.

“Professor McGonagall! Can we please have something brought up for Malfoy?” She asked of the Headmistress, who nodded and called for a house elf.

“What are you playing at Granger?” the blond asked with a raised brow.

“What do you mean? You’re hungry aren’t you?”

“Well, yes, but-”

“So we’ll have lunch together. I usually eat after our meetings, but we might as well eat together from now on.” The Head Girl said all this, leaving no room for argument and Draco was so stunned by her change in attitude towards him that he simply sat there in quiet acceptance.

Their meal came in less than five minutes and featured all their favorites. It turned out that both students enjoyed black currant bon bons, so they had to negotiate as the elf attempted to separate their food equally. Draco eventually surrendered a portion of his own, allowing the elf to banish it across the barrier and to Hermione’s plate, successfully keeping her allure from affecting him.

“So, I suppose we should address each other by our first names. It appears we’ll be seeing a lot of each other in the future, so we might as well get comfortable with them,” the Veela finally said after they began to tuck in. Draco’s mouth was half full, so propriety dictated he not speak, but his thoughts were focused on how easily she had made and accepted the statement. The Slytherin attempted to choke down his food before responding.

“A-alright. Her…mione?”

“Draco.” She paused, took another small bite of food, swallowed, and continued. “I have a question.”

“Okay?” Draco’s fork froze halfway to his mouth and he quirked an eyebrow.

“Well, I-” Hermione hesitated and took another bite, apparently using the time to think over her words. When the right ones wouldn’t come forth, she took another bite, so did he. “I know you’re a Death Eater.”

Draco nearly suffocated from the choking fit he had. As it was, by the time he recovered, he was halfway to the floor, clutching the armrest of his chair. Hermione’s eyes were wide as she watched him in horror, thinking she’d nearly killed him. The wizard glanced over his shoulder as the Headmistress eyed him from a distance, ready to step in if he appeared to be in real distress.

“I-er,” He coughed a bit more. “Why would you say that?”

“Draco, I’m not stupid.”

“No, I think the entire school is aware you’re not stupid,” he argued.

“I know you let the Death Eaters in last year. A lot of people do.” She was clearly making Draco incredibly uncomfortable, but he couldn’t exactly deny her claims. Well, he could, but he’d be lying, and he was supposed to be trying to make this work. For his mother.

“And…and if I was?” It was Hermione’s turn to be uncomfortable.

“Well…”Her meal was almost gone, so there wasn’t much for her to eat to take up time. “I was wondering what you were going to do about that.”

“Meaning…?”

“Draco, you’re not stupid either.”

“I know, we’ve been over this. Second in my class.” The blond wasn’t liking this conversation very much. He had hoped to just have an easy conversation, like last time, and maybe throw around a few good-natured jibes. This though, was making him anxious.

“I know I’m a target, being so close to Harry and all. Won’t You-Know-Who try to take advantage of that?” Draco sighed, resigned to confess. He shifted the serving tray he had been eating from to the side of his chair for the house-elf to remove, leaned his elbows on his knees, and shut his eyes as he gathered his thoughts.

“I’ve already…talked to Professor McGonagall about it.” The Veela glanced at the Headmistress for confirmation. McGonagall gave a stiff nod without removing her gaze from her paperwork. “And Auror Shacklebolt.”

“You did?”

“Yes.” He sighed again. “It’s being handled. Can we move on now?”

“What’re you doing to ‘handle’ it?” Apparently Granger’s thirst for knowledge had not changed with the color of her hair.

“Don’t worry about it.”

“’Don’t worry about it’? Draco, _both_ our lives are at stake!” She fumed, a crease forming in her brow with her irritation. “I have just as much right as you to know what Voldemort plans to do when he finds out you’re my mate!” The Slytherin flinched at the mention of his ‘master’s’ name, but he forced himself to stay seated. He also couldn’t deny that she had a point. If the Dark Lord didn’t kill them both straight away, he’d find some way to enslave her most likely. Veela were powerful commodities, especially pureblood Veela, like Hermione.

When Draco didn’t say anything for over a minute, he earned a hard, expectant glare from the other side of the barrier.

“I…I’ve switched sides.” It suddenly felt like a lump had formed in Draco’s throat; his subconscious trying to prevent any more secrets out. “I’m going to be a spy for the Order.” There was no need to share that Pansy had agreed to spy as well. He wouldn’t offer more information than absolutely necessary about his best friend. She had entrusted him with her life and he wouldn’t abuse that.

Whatever it was Hermione thought the boy would say, it wasn’t that. It was terribly dangerous to spy on Voldemort, and she told him as much. His only response was a shrug of his shoulders and a glance around the room.

“Why are you doing this?” She asked. He couldn’t be putting his life at risk just to be nice to her. He must have an ulterior motive, he was a Slytherin after all. His gaze met hers again and he frowned. It was a similar look to the one Snape used to give her when she asked an ‘impertinent’ question.

“We’re stuck together, Granger. Our lives are tied and I plan to continue living. If the only way to do that is to make sure your heart keeps beating, then that’s what I’m going to do. Besides…there are worse things than being bound to a Veela.”

“Yeah, you could be bound to a mudblood.” The comment was out before she could stop herself and Hermione closed her eyes in regret. She didn’t want to see his reaction. Whatever it may be. When she finally opened them again and dared a look to him, his face was stony and unreadable.

“I think I’d better get going. I was nearly late to class last time,” the blond said as he stood and gathered his bag.

“Draco, I-”

“Bye, Hermione.”

The Veela watched him go from behind the ‘safety’ of the barrier. She wished she could follow him and apologize, but if she tried, she’d likely do more than that. McGonagall would probably have to rip them apart…again.


End file.
